Second Year
by Simon920
Summary: This is a sequel to First Year, which is BJ's first year together as marrieds, and Christmas Story where they get actually married. Needless to say, it is not smooth sailing. Story is complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Second Year**

**January**

**The New Year had started as well as anyone could hope a new year to start.**

**Justin and Brian had ended up spending Christmas and a couple of days with Justin's family at his grandparent's house on Long Island. Jennifer and Molly had been there, several groups of cousins and aunts and uncles and various old friends had stopped in. There had been an after Christmas party with around thirty people, mostly neighbors and the like, all meeting Brian for the first time and many of them just learning that Justin's spouse was male.**

**No one seemed shocked, no one in any way criticized and everyone offered them best wishes and were curious to meet Brian. What was said after the guests went home was anyone's guess.**

**They had been married almost exactly one year and it hadn't all been smooth sailing. They had fought and argued, there had been days when neither of them would have given good odds of them seeing in the next few months together, but they'd done it. There had been problems, serious ones, and they weren't all solved, but they were aware of them and both men were determined to make things work.**

**They were.**

**Brian had cancelled meeting he'd been attending in California so that he could fly east for the holidays with Justin, surprising him with his arrival after midnight on Christmas morning. The rest of the visit had been good. They were happy to be together and the others seemed happy just to see them being content with one another, affectionate, teasing and joking. **

**All the world loves a lover and all of that.**

**Then one afternoon after lunch Justin's grandfather had closed his study door and told Brian that if he didn't slow down, get more rest, spend more time with Justin and just generally take time to smell the roses he'd end up in an early grave—he'd actually said that—and he was damned if he would let him leave Justin a widow at twenty-three. He'd gone on to tell him, in no uncertain terms, that if he didn't pay more attention to his marriage, he'd lose it.**

**Brian liked Bill, and he respected him, so after he'd sat by himself for an hour or so to let what he'd been told sink in he took it to heart.**

**He made a couple of calls and after dinner he had surprised Justin again. Less than twenty-four hours later they had left from New York to spend two weeks on a small Caribbean island named Nevis.**

**It was a small piece of paradise with private beaches, soft sand and palm trees along with a discrete staff. They had slept in late, tried the few restaurants available, explored the neighboring island of St. Kitts and completely relaxed, doing little more than sleep, eat, make love and swim.**

**It had been good. They had both needed the break and now they were headed back to Pittsburgh, Brian to his clients, Justin to class.**

**Business as usual.**

**The plane landed in a driving blizzard after weather delays. The temperature hovered around fifteen with the wind chill dropping it to minus ten. The cab skidded its way to the loft, which was cold and dark and there was no edible food. The power seemed to have gone out at some point while they were away and the smell of mildew was almost overwhelming from what had rotten in the fridge. All the clocks were blinking.**

**Welcome back to reality.**

**They turned up the heat, sprayed Lysol around, causing them to gag at the smell and opted to go out for dinner, hoping that the place would be thawed out and less noxious when they got back. **

**They walked into the diner, hoping for a quiet burger and knowing it would be a long shot as soon as they opened the door.**

**"You're back! Come and give me a hug!" Evidently, Deb was working the dinner shift. She smothered Justin and attempted to grab Brian as well, but he knew the moves and managed to get into the booth first. "You're both so tan—and I'll bet there not a single tan line between you." **

**God, Brian loved her more than his own mother—not a difficult thing to manage, but there were times when he wished she'd just stuff a fucking sock in it.**

**"Could we just get some food, Deb? It's been sort of a long day and we're hungry—OK?" Justin's smile was disarming, but he was running interference for Brian and they all knew it. He was tired and cranky and not in the mood for this. They had cut their decompression time for getting back to nothing so that they could have more time on the island, so there'd be no down time. Brian had to be at Vanguard at eight in the morning tomorrow and Justin had an eight-thirty class. Laundry and food shopping would have to be put off and they'd be hitting the ground running.**

**All they wanted was a quick dinner, back to the hopefully warm loft, shower and bed. Seeing the looks on both of their faces, Deb gave them a sympathetic smile and put a rush on their order. In an hour they were back at the slightly warmer loft. At six thirty tomorrow morning the race would begin again. They set the clock on the bed stand and simply went to sleep. **

**When Justin woke up the loft had that particular quiet that tells you that you're alone. It was dead silent, not even a clock ticking, Brian was probably long gone and he'd probably overslept, Damnit. He looked over at the clock, the one they'd set the night before. Ten-thirty. Shit. He'd missed his first class and half of the second one too and he wasn't even out of bed yet.**

**Throwing clothes on, brushing his teeth really fast and skipping breakfast, he literally skidded into his third class of the day, design concepts, fifteen minutes late.**

**"Ah, Mr. Taylor, good of you to join us this morning. I take it married life is treating you well, is it?" The class snickered at the insinuation while Justin stewed. Shit.**

**Welcome back.**

**A few hours earlier and across town Brian was elbow deep in the Supercuts account. Like he'd ever walk through the door of a chain that specialized in twelve-dollar haircuts with no appointments. God, the things he did for money.**

**"Brian, you're here early. Good to have you back." Vance was standing in his office doorway. It was just before seven AM and he'd decided to get there earlier than usual to find out what he'd missed over the last two weeks. It was a lot. "You'll be sitting in at the Kimberly-Clark meeting at nine, I assume?"**

**"I saw it on the schedule. I can be there if you want."**

**"Yes, good. And Leo Brown called while you were away. He'd appreciate you're joining him for lunch tomorrow. I believe he said that he'd be in Mexico City—something about cheaper labor negotiations. Your girl has the information and should have your ticket." He turned to go. "Oh I almost forgot, there's a dinner meeting you might want to be in on, as well this evening. We're pitching a new campaign to a tire company; one I believe that Marty Ryder pitched a year or two ago. The owner asked for you particularly. That's been scheduled for seven." He was gone.**

**Mexico? Jesus. And dinner with that asshole he'd walked out on, the one who'd wanted his ass in bed in exchange for the damn account? What was that about?**

**Welcome back.**

**At nine Cynthia handed him a cup of coffee, the way he liked it, black and extra sweet, then sat down to go over the week with him. It would be a bear. He had meetings scheduled up the wazoo, new pitches, new clients, old clients, dinners, lunches, two breakfasts and a one-day trip to Mexico. He almost didn't care what Vance was paying him, this was nuts.**

**Marvin Telson the tire king? Christ.**

**He hit the intercom, Cynthia answered in about five seconds. "Yes?"**

**"What does my schedule look like for next week?"**

**She brought it in. It made this week look light. She didn't say anything, just shook her head.**

**"What does his schedule look like."? He meant Vance. They both knew he meant Vance.**

**"It's heavy."**

**Something was going on. This was insane even by Gardner's standards.**

**"What about the ad execs?"**

**"Everyone is booked solid."**

**He nodded, she was dismissed. Something was going on, something that Vance hadn't mentioned to him yet and which would probably blow up.**

**He plowed through the day, one step at a time. It was steady with no break, the breakfast meeting almost ran into the lunch meeting which ran over to the two o'clock and by five he was both tired and hungry. With any luck he would be able to get back to the loft for an hour of down time, maybe a quick shower or something before the last round of the day. **

**No such luck.**

**"Brian? Could you take a look at the numbers for Telson Tires? I'm not sure about the print budget because he insists on sponsoring that racing team and that's a foryune right there."**

**"…Sure, bring them to my office." Shit.**

**At ten to seven he and Vance were seated at the chosen restaurant, a French place downtown on the fortieth floor of one of the towers and a view down the three rivers. He suddenly remembered that he hadn't called Justin. OK, the kid would know he was working, but there was no point in holding his own dinner because Brian was trapped. He pulled out his cel.**

**"Hey."**

**"Hey, where are you?"**

**"Dinner meeting. I'll be a couple of hours yet."**

**"That sucks. Anything interesting?"**

**"Not even close. Later."**

**"Later."**

**He snapped the phone closed, Vance looking at him. "You're a good—spouse. I suspect that you're better at it than I was."**

**"What makes you say that?"**

**"You remembered to call. I never did." He sipped from his water glass. "So what can you tell me about our Mr. Telson?"**

**He likes dick? "He's a tough SOB who isn't about playing us against the competition. He'll have a private agenda which he won't tell us and we probably won't get the account."**

**"So we're wasting our time?"**

**"That would be my guess."**

**"…Well, with any luck the meat will b tender." Brian managed to hide his smirk, barely.**

**"Brian, it's nice to see you again, I'd know you anywhere." They stood to shake hands all around before sitting back down.**

**"Marvin, I'll bet you haven't changed."**

**"You're know me too well."**

**"Maybe. Marvin, this is my partner, Gardner Vance, Gardner, Marvin Telson."**

**Vance pulled his most sincere smile. "Mr. Telson, it's a pleasure. What are you drinking?"**

**The dinner moved along like a hundred business dinners they'd all attended. It seemed, if they were to believe Marvin, that he was unhappy with his current agency and was looking for a change. He had remembered how good Ryder had been a couple pf years ago, how impressed he'd been with their ideas and thought that they would be a good place to start his search and if they had what he was looking for, well, they could all talk about that when the time came.**

**"If you don't mind my asking, what made you decide to go with Jenkins two years ago? Weren't the ideas you were shown to your liking?"**

**"I thought that they were excellent, Mr. Vance and I was quite impressed with Brian here, but …" He seemed to falter just a bit, as though unsure how much to say. He looked at Brian for help.**

**"Marvin had a family emergency and had to leave suddenly. How is your daughter doing now?"**

**"Fully recovered, thanks. You were right, she did need me to be there." He turned his attention to Gardner. "I was going to stay and finish what Brian and had been discussing when I got a call that my daughter had broken her arm. Brian was the one who insisted that I should go back right then. It saved a lot of problems for me."**

**"I'm sure it did." Brian produced an almost genuine smile.**

**"Well, anyway, I was distracted by her injury and had my vice president make the decision about which agency to go with. I think he made a mistake and I'd like to correct it."**

**"Excellent. Brian, I believe that we have time with Mr. Telson in the morning to go over our new thoughts for him. You'll be there, of course?"**

**"I'm flying to Mexico tonight, Gardner, remember?" His flight was midnight, what a pain in the ass. "I'm sure that you can show Marvin what we had in mind." Whatever the fuck it was—it had been planned while Brian was away.**

**Marvin stared hard at him. "Vacation, Brian? And I couldn't help but notice that you're wearing a wedding ring. I never thought that you'd take the plunge."**

**"It surprised me too, Marvin. But, no, this is a business meeting with another client. I'm just going for the day."**

**"In that case I'd be happy to wait for you t get back. I have things to do in this area and we could just push the meeting back to Wednesday."**

**"That would be fine, Brian?" Vance was looking for confirmation and Brian knew the fucking account rested on whether or not Marvin would be able to suck him off.**

**"There's no reason for you to have to hang around, Gardner is actually more experienced than I am in this sort of campaign"—Gardner thought his teeth would fall out at that remark—"and he'll do well by you. We can talk in a couple of weeks when it's more formed up, if you'd like."**

**Without making a show he wasn't willing to make, Marvin had no real choice other than to not hire them and he very much wanted them writing his ads. Much as it killed him, the damn agency was the best and if Kinney could be included in the deal, well, all the sweeter. Maybe they could hook up at some other meeting he could insist on later in the month. Damnit. And what was that about Kinney wearing a wedding ring? He was as queer as a three-dollar bill. Who the hell had he married?**

**Smiling, shaking hands, thanking them for dinner, Marvin left the restaurant, the concierge at the hotel was discrete and would have some ideas for him tonight.**

**Visibly relaxing, Brian and Vance had a last glass of wine at the table. **

**"What happened between the two of you that neither of you were willing to talk about?"**

**"Old Marvin wanted to suck me off but went back home to his injured daughter instead. That's why we didn't get the account two years ago."**

**"So why is he back?"**

**Brian smiled. "He can't forget me?" **

**Gardner was carefully placing his remaining silverware on his desert plate. "I don't particularly care how things were done when Marty Ryder owned the company, but you are to understand that this sort of thing is not part of my operating practices. Do I make myself clear?" He gave Brian one of his looks. "I shall deal with Mr. Telson."**

**"Why, Gardner. I had no idea you were concerned about the state of my virtue."**

**"I suspect I'm somewhat too late to worry there, however, you will do nothing to compromise the legal operation of my business and make no mistake about that." He glanced at his watch. "It's nine. If you hurry you may be able to kiss your young man good-bye until tomorrow. Do you need a ride to the airport?"**

**"I called Justin when I went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago. He's picking me up here to take me. I'll see you Wednesday morning."**

**"Right. Safe trip."**

**Justin was in the restaurant lobby when Brian walked out to get his coat, Vance beside him. They exchanged greetings and an apology to Justin that Brian would be working long hours for the foreseeable future. From the look on the youngster's face, he hadn't been told yet. Shit. The ride to Pittsburgh International would be a long one.**

**"You told me that you'd slow down. You promised, Brian."**

**"I will."**

**"You heard what my grandfather said. Even he's worried about the way you're working. Please."**

**"I will. I told you I will."**

**Ten miles went by in silence.**

**"Please, Brian."**

**"I will. I told you that."**

**"I don't want another year like last year."**

**"Justin—enough. I get back tomorrow at eight."**

**"I know. I'll be here."**

**They kissed as the car sat for a minute at the curb of international departures. "Good."**

**"Brian? Be careful."**

**Justin watched him walk into the terminal, carryon bag in hand, not looking back. The trip to Nevis had been so good, so had the holidays at his grandparents. They had been so happy just to be together and to have time with no distractions. No one was calling them, they didn't have to be anywhere, no one even hit on either one of them the whole time. It had been good, wonderful, almost perfect and he started to wonder if the feeling would last as long as Brian's tan. **

**They were back, back to work, back to school, back to business trips and not enough sleep or enough time together. He was back to being the little woman, Brian was—Brian. Justin knew that he intended to slow down, that he wanted to spend more time together. He also knew it was as likely as a snowball's in Hell. **

**Everyone kept telling him that Brian was doing it for him, that he was doing it for them, that he was building the foundation for their life and security and all of that shit.**

**Christ.**

**Was he the only one who knew that was all bullshit and that Brian didn't do anything he didn't want to?**

**He merged the car onto the highway, headed back to the loft. He had work to do and he needed sleep. Classes started tomorrow for him at eight-thirty again and he had to make it there tomorrow or he'd be screwed.**

**He had been such an ass last year, thinking that a ring and a license would magically make all the problems go away.**

**They didn't.**

**And they weren't getting better.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Second Year**

**February**

**February in Pittsburgh is cold and gray and depressing. The snow is dirty and everyone is tired of winter and you just slog through the days—or so it seemed to Justin.**

**Brian had three more business trips in January, after the stupid one-day thing to Mexico City for Leo Brown. He had renewed the contract so Vance was happy, but Brian was back to the killer schedule they had argued about through most of the previous year and still didn't see each other nearly enough. Between work and school and family shit, neither one of them was what you would call jolly and it often seemed to Justin that Brian was practically a walking zombie. His eyes were shadowed and he seemed to be having trouble keeping his weight up simply because he didn't take the time to eat.**

**Justin would ask him about it, cajole him, prod and argue, but nothing seemed to make any difference in how he was determined to work or the amount of hours he insisted on putting in. When he finally would get back to the loft, as often as not he'd be either on the phone or the computer past midnight, only to get up at six and start again. Even weekends were given over to whatever he was doing and when Justin asked, was just told he was working, please shut the fuck up. Justin had gone through understanding, patient, supportive and was now edging into pissed. Generally he'd either take a book up to the bed and read, eat something or slam out of the loft to his small studio on campus. Neither of them was too happy with the way things were going. The good feelings of Christmas and the trip to the islands had faded and they found themselves often snapping at one another, even in front of their friends. Something had to give.**

**The day when Justin stopped into Brian's office with a surprise lunch, he overheard the damn conversation. Standing in the outer room, next to Cynthia, it all came pouring through the closed door. If he hadn't been standing there, he probably never would have found out, but that's bad luck for you.**

**"How the Hell can you say it doesn't matter? Of course it bloody matters!"**

**"I got you the Goddamned account, why do you care how I got the fucking thing?"**

**"I care because it's illegal, that's why."**

**"There's nothing illegal about it. It was completely consensual between two adults. And I sure as fuck didn't hear you complain when he doubled his advertising budget."**

**"If there is any fallout from this—any—I will personally eviscerate you. Personally. And make no mistake about that."**

**The door slammed open, Vance slammed out and they both caught the look on his face as he brushed past on his way God knew where. Justin and Cynthia exchanged looks, hers with the slightest of shrugs and he stepped the ten feet to Brian's open door. He was standing with his back to the room, furious, hands on hips. Justin closed the door behind him.**

**"No calls." He didn't even turn around.**

**"I'll tell her."**

**Brian looked around, his back still turned. "Sorry."**

**Justin put the bags of food on Brian's desk. "What did you do to get that account?" He didn't really have to ask. He knew. This was Brian. There was no answer, just his hands gesturing a you know'. Yes, he did know. He wasn't even all that surprised. "Who was it?"**

**"No one. A client."**

**"Big account?"**

**"Justin. It didn't matter, you know that."**

**His head down, yes, he knew. It didn't matter to Brian. The account mattered. He'd likely screwed the guy, or blown him or whatever, gotten dressed and gone home and made love after a nice dinner. This was Brian. It didn't matter. "I brought you lunch."**

**"Justin, it didn't matter. It doesn't matter."**

**"Can we talk about this later? At home?"**

**"It doesn't matter."**

**"Yeah, it does. We'll talk about it later."**

**"Justin, it doesn't. You know me, you know this is business." He looked at the bags. "Eat with me."**

**He shook his head. "I'll see you later."**

**Shit. Justin had gone, quietly, no drama queening, no tantrums, no scenes. He looked at the food. Evidently Justin had planned a picnic—cheese and crackers, wine, grapes. It was just the sort of thing he would have wanted, that he would have looked forward to with Ethan. Shit. This was going to take some time for him to get over and right now they simply didn't have a lot of time, not between work and school and everything else that was going on. In addition to all the day-to-day things, Justin had gotten a call from Fred Gormley at the Gallery in New York where he'd been part of a group show last fall—his one man show was due to be hung in less than two months and the pieces had to be outstanding. Justin was breaking his back over that and now he thought that Brian was tricking again.**

**Goddamnit.**

**He wasn't tricking. It had just been two hours with fucking Marvin in a hotel room. It hadn't meant anything and it had gotten them the account. With the shit that was going on at Vanguard right now, he had to make sure that the clients were on board. He had to. And he had to make sure that they were on board with him, personally and if it took a blowjob or two, then so be it and Justin would just have to understand that.**

**Christ, it wasn't like Marvin was anything to look at. He was hardly what you'd call a great conversationalist. His body—please. It was just business, nothing more, nothing less.**

**He got back to the loft about six-thirty, early for him, half hoping that Justin would be there and half hoping that he wouldn't. **

**He was. Just about all the lights in the loft were on and he was sitting on the couch, not watching whatever was on the TV. Taking off his overcoat, the cashmere one, his scarf and gloves, Brian went over and stood in front of his husband. Justin looked up at him, waiting.**

**"It didn't mean anything then and it doesn't mean anything now, not to us anyway."**

**"I know that."**

**"And…?"**

**"And nothing. You told me it doesn't matter, that it was just so you could get the account. I know you; I know you'll do anything to get ahead. I know that."**

**"Justin…" **

**"How often have you done this? Has it been going on all along?" His expression was mild, his tone quiet.**

**"I told you when we got married that I wouldn't take the vows if I didn't mean them. This was the only time and it won't happen again."**

**"…Whatever." He actually seemed not to care, though Brian knew that wasn't true.**

**"It won't."**

**"And why should I believe that? Would he pull his account if you don't render the service he wants?"**

**"It won't happen again because I'm leaving Vanguard. I'm going to start my own agency. Gardner and I talked about it today—all afternoon, in fact. He's agreed to pay off my share of the partnership, which will give me the startup costs. Cynthia is coming with me and a couple of the others."**

**Justin looked at him like Brian must have thought that he was an idiot. "Why the fuck would Vance let you go and why would he agree to your opening a competing office in the same city? He's not stupid and neither am I."**

**"I know." Brian knew he was damn smart, in fact. "But a couple of years ago when he agreed to my promotion and had the contracts drawn up he didn't notice that legal neglected the non-competition clause."**

**"Bullshit. He wouldn't have missed something like that."**

**"Legal screwed up. I almost missed it myself and I didn't point it out to him until after the fact." Brian gave another of his half smiles. "—He should have fired all of Legal along with everyone else. John Wilson drew up the contract and didn't even tell me that he'd left it out."**

**"Wilson? The guy you play pool with at Woody's?"**

**Brian nodded, his half smile in place. "He decided to do me a favor and if Vance caught it, he'd have put it back in."**

**"You going to hire him?"**

**"I thought that it would be a good idea."**

**Justin raised his face slightly. "And what am I supposed to do while you're starting your agency? You promised me that you…oh, screw it." The façade of sophistication and reserve broke. "You're fucking around again—like you expect me to believe that you ever stopped or that you'll stop now. You decided to start your own place and never even said shit to me about it—what else have you forgotten to mention? You have another kid somewhere you forgot about? Maybe you hired Kip Thomas back for nooners? What else, Brian? Why the fuck did you want to get married? You don't give a shit about it—it's just another notch on your belt, another way to keep me around and to get Debbie and everyone else off you back for treating me like shit."**

**If Brian had any doubts about how badly he'd screwed up, how much he'd hurt Justin, how deeply he'd probably torn their marriage or their relationship, he understood it then. In fact he did love Justin and he had stopped tricking when they had gotten married. This thing with Marvin had been a one timer, nothing more. It wouldn't happen again with anyone. It wouldn't. **

**He told Justin that, he did. He apologized and swore that he'd drop Telson's account if it upset Justin this much. He swore hat he hadn't been with anyone since before they'd exchanged the damn rings and that he was doing all of this to build a life for the two of them, so that they'd have the money and the security hat went with it for the long term.**

**"You sound like my fucking father and you're as full of shit as he is. The money—what the fuck good is it if you kill yourself to get it? I never cared about that and you know it. I'm not fucking Donna Reed needing a big strong man to take care of me. I just want—I just want us to be together and you just don't get it. " **

**"I want to have a good life. I want us to live well and to be able to do the things we want. You know that."**

**"Based on cars and clothes and what restaurants you can afford? Brian, it doesn't matter. All that's crap, it doesn't matter."**

**"It does it you haven't grown up surrounded by it."**

**Sure fine. "…Maybe. I guess." Justin stood up, still quiet. "I'm going out."**

**"I'll go with you."**

**"No."**

**"Are you coming back?"**

**"Later, yes." Taking his jacket, he left, sliding the door closed behind him. Brian had seen him take the keys to the jeep. Wherever he was going, whomever he was going to talk to—Jenn or Ben or someone, maybe Deb, he'd be a while.**

**Justin got in the jeep, the one that had replaced the sold corvette, the one Brian insisted was more practical and that they could use for more things. He'd leered when he'd said that and they had both laughed and found out some of the things that it was large enough for. That had been months ago and they'd used it almost everyday since—no not just for that, but they used the damn car everyday and it occurred to Justin that, like almost everything else in their lives, it was really Brian's car. Oh, sure, they called it theirs' and all of that, just like they both called the loft home', but the fact was that Brian footed all the bills and really made just about all of the decisions.**

**Fuck—and he was Brian's twat, the little woman, the boy toy, the trophy wife. **

**He pulled up in front of his mother's condo. Shit, running home to mother. What an ass. He was going to put the car back in drive when he saw the condo's door open, his mother looking out. "Justin? I'm so glad to see you, sweetie. Come in out of the cold."**

**Trapped, fine.**

**He turned the ignition back off, went inside.**

**One look at his face was all she needed. "Alright. What happened?" Damn Brian. She put the teakettle on, her solution to everything.**

**He wasn't going to tell her. Oh, screw it. "He's been...shit. He screwed some client to get an account and when I found out he told me that he's going to start his own agency, that Vance has bought him out and that it's a done deal. He's even rented a space and hired people."**

**"My God, when did all this happen?"**

**"I just found out this afternoon and in the meantime, I'm trying to get enough canvases ready for Fred next month and…Goddamnit, he didn't even tell me that he was thinking about all this and he probably wouldn't even have told me if I hadn't overheard him this afternoon. I'm just a fucking afterthought with him."**

**"What did he say? You must have talked to him, what did he have to say about this?"**

**"That he's trying to build a life for us, that he's trying to make sure that we're financially secure and all of that shit. He doesn't get that all I want is for us to be together. The rest of all of that doesn't matter."**

**Well, in fact it did matter, at least to a point. "Honey, he's trying, he's hoping that one day you two will be able to do whatever you want. You know that."**

**"I just want us to be together, but he ignores me and he'd fucking working himself to death and then he even—Goddamnit."**

**"Did he say that he won't do that again, about the client, I mean?"**

**"Yes."**

**"Do you believe him?"**

**"…I guess, unless he decides it's important."**

**Oh, God, Justin was still so young. "And you still want him or you wouldn't be so upset. Honey, your Dad did the same thing, well, more or less. I thought that he'd work himself into the grave when he was trying to get up the ladder. He'd get a promotion or a raise and I'd think he'd relax but he'd just work that much harder. He did it for us, for me and you and your sister. You know how that was."**

**"And when you two split up he…" He stopped. They both knew what Craig had done. He'd screwed them all.**

**"And you know as well as I do that Brian wouldn't do that to you." She took a sip of her tea. "Do you think Brian would have told you about his new agency on his own?"**

**"Eventually, of course." In fact there had been a couple of times in the last couple of weeks when Brian had probably—maybe—been about to tell him, but he was either busy or had picked up another diner shift or something. He had said that he wanted to sit down and go over something, but he'd said it so mildly, so quietly, that Justin had blown it off. Tat would be Brian, though. The things that matter the most would be the things he'd make the least fuss over, afraid of criticism or failure.**

**"Honey, do you think you two can talk this out?"**

**He nodded. He'd try. What choice did he have? Move in with his mother? Get a divorce? He knew what Brian was trying to do. It was just that they seemed to be at loggerheads so often lately, not even really arguing, just each going their own way. When they connected it was good, but there were so many times when they just missed, sliding past each other and Brian seemed to busy to notice what was happening.**

**Brian had wanted his own agency since he was in college. This was one of his dreams. **

**He shouldn't have screwed the tire king, fucking no, but he'd said he wouldn't so it again and maybe he meant it.**

**In fact, if he said, he did mean it. You could take that to the bank. This was Brian he was talking about here.**

**He was trying to build a life for them and he was trying to—he was being Brian, trying to be the top fucking dog, always the alpha, always had to be on top. That was Brian. He knew this. If he had a problem with it then he was in the wrong place because Brian wouldn't change.**

**No, that wasn't true, either. Brian had changed. Brian had changed a lot. He had stopped tricking, just about, anyway. OK, he backslid, but he'd almost stopped. He probably had stopped, almost. He had gotten married for shit's sake. He had decided to break away and start his own business. He had stopped drinking and drugging, mostly. He worked almost 24/7. He was trying to grow up and he was doing it the only way he knew how. **

**And he was trying to take care of his husband.**

**He was trying.**

**He was.**

**But this screwing clients was bullshit and he wasn't going to take it. Brian—shit, that was non-negotiable. It was.**

**Starting a new agency, that meant that he'd be working longer hours than before. He was wearing himself down now and they hardly ever saw one another. Shit. OK, maybe it was just for a while, maybe a year or two, that's what he knew Brian wanted him to believe, maybe it was even what Brian believed, or hoped.**

**Fine.**

**He'd give him the time he wanted, so long as he agreed to cut the tricking crap. He could live with it. He didn't like it, but he could live with it for now and, when you came down to it, wasn't that part of his problem? The idea that he was just thought of as an appendage to Brian?**

**This was his chance to prove that he was more than that. **

**He had a big show coming up. He was in demand and he wasn't just Brian's twat.**

**Fine.**

**When he let himself back into the loft Brian was waiting for him, sitting on the couch Justin had been on a few hours ago. Now their positions were reversed, Brian sitting, waiting to hear what he had to say as Justin stood in front of him.**

**"Look, you want to take a shot and start your own agency, that's OK. I know you want to do this and I know it's important to you."**

**Brian looked at him with some apprehension. He knew this was a long way from finished. "But…?"**

**"But if I hear about you fucking any clients I'm gone. I mean it. Besides anything else, it's just so—God, it's so shoddy. You're better than that and you Goddamned know it."**

**Brian knew that. He did. He nodded his agreement. This was starting to feel like the rules Justin had wanted after they'd reconnected after Ethan.**

**"And if you start running yourself into the ground again, you have to slow down. I don't want to go to your damn funeral."**

**Brian flashed on Justin's grandfather saying almost the same thing to him over Christmas and wondered if Justin had heard it there. He wouldn't out it past him to have been listening at the door or something. It didn't matter. He'd try. It wouldn't be easy with the start up, but he'd make an effort.**

**"If it starts getting bad and you tell me to back off, I'll try. That's the best I can do with that, but I will try."**

**Justin nodded at him. **

**Done deal.**

**Evidently the conversation was over, at least this part of it. They weren't ones to beat it to death.**

**"You got a call when you were out." Brian knew damn well he'd been at Jenn's. She had called while Justin was driving home, reamed him out in twelve directions, in fact. She'd told him hat if he didn't clean up his act she'd make sure that things didn't go smoothly for him and somehow he had believed her, much as he was pissed that there were other people aware of what he considered personal business. He hated that they were being discussed. He had always hated shit like that, knowing that people felt sorry for him, wondered if he knew what he was doing and waiting to see if he'd fall on his face. **

**"Fred's assistant called. Scott? He needs slides of what you'll be showing, even if you have to show him the roughs. I can have them photographed in the morning if you have them ready." **

**The storm seemed over for now.**

**"Have you eaten?" In fact Justin was famished, he shook his head.**

**"Chinese?"**

**"Fine."**

**They had a long way to go—in fact they'd come a long way, three years more or less together—and they both knew they weren't there yet.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Second Year**

**March**

**It was chaos, the entire month, for both of them.**

**Brian was swamped with trying to get his new agency, BK and Co., and organized, trying to keep the clients who had moved with him happy, find new accounts and attempt to balance the newly opened book and actually see his husband every day for at least some time together.**

**Justin was coming to the realization that getting a one-man show ready, and making sure that the product he was producing was acceptable, made his attending classes impossible.**

**After some hard thinking and with some reservations, he applied for and was granted a leave of absence with his return open for review in six months. If the show in New York were a success there would be no reason for him to go back to school. If he flopped, he would have to submit new examples of his work for jury by the faculty to consider whether or not he was still PIFA material.**

**They were both under the gun and they both knew it. Many of their friends and family, however, did not and couldn't understand why the invitations to dinner or the movies or Babylon were refused, usually politely, but refused never the less. **

**Debbie was pissed that Justin had to pull back on his diner shifts and Linds was pissed that Brian couldn't take Gus for the weekend so that she and Mel cold get away for a couple of days. Claire was more annoyed than usual because her brother wouldn't lend her money, claiming—rightly—that his funds were tied up with the business start up and Jenn was angry that Justin couldn't pick up his sister at the ski place two hours away that she had gone to with friends, then had to leave early because of a forgotten History project.**

**All in all, they were just pissing off everyone, including each other.**

**Fred at the gallery was demanding slides of some finished pieces so that he could get some post cards and advance PR work done and Gardner Vance was breathing down Brian's neck to finish out a couple of lingering commitments that had been part of his buy out before he could completely walk away and be done with Vanguard.**

**And then to make things perfect, Justin got a call from some guy who'd been pursuing him for a few months now. Well, OK. He was the guy whose cherry Justin had popped at Daph's party a while ago, the one who showed up the next day to proclaim his love. Justin had seen him around and lately they'd started chatting and having an occasional cup of coffee together. Brian didn't know. Justin had been out on a food run when Brian actually picked up the phone, took the message and gave it to Justin when he walked in twenty minutes later.**

**"You had a call. Eric said you left your gloves at his place and he'll give them to you when he stops in at your studio tomorrow." That was all Brian said, but the look he had on his face was enough to curl Justin's toes.**

**"I went over to get a couple of blank canvas's he made up for me, that's all."**

**"He couldn't drop them in your studio or the office for you?"**

**"He could have, but I was in the area and it seemed easier and quicker to just get the things myself."**

**"He seemed friendly for the hired help, Sunshine."**

**"Piss off, Brian." The door slammed behind him.**

**Brian didn't see any reason to tell Justin that he'd pushed a dinner meeting with Marvin Telson off onto his only ad exec so that he wouldn't have to deal with the horny old bastard. Somehow Brian didn't think that Ben was Marv's type. Ben was slightly older than Brian, married and had four kids, all under the age of five.**

**Fuck em.**

**Throwing Justin one last glare, he crossed over to his desk, flipped open his lap top and started back to work. He had three pitches lined up for the week and if he nailed even one of them he might have a shot of thinking about hitting the black inside of the first six months of opening his shop. He also knew that Gardner would move heaven and earth to make sure that didn't happen. Oh, he wouldn't play dirty—there was honor amongst thieves—but he wouldn't be laying out any silver platters for him to be feasting off of, either.**

**Whatever he won would be hard fought and if he could pull this off he figured that in a few years, five at the outside, he would be able to either pull up and make a move to either New York or San Francisco, get the hell out of Pittsburgh and live the way he had wanted to since he was about twenty. OK, he hadn't talked this part of the plan over with Justin, but, shit—how could he not want to see more than he could see where they were now? He had to like the idea when it finally came up. He'd fucking have to.**

**Maybe, when the dust settled from the agency opening and Justin's big show, maybe they could take some time and get away together, just the two of them the way Justin always liked.**

**He would love that—maybe London would be good. Justin would love all those museums. They could go pub crawling, do some shopping, get some decent clothing—well, maybe they'd have to go over to Paris for that, but it wasn't like it would be far if they were in London. Maybe they could take a boat over. The new one, the Queen Mary 2 had started her trans Atlantic crossings and he's heard that they had some deal where if you sailed one way they threw in the airfare for the return trip. That might be fun, Justin would like that—just the two of them in a cabin on a top of the line ship sailing the Atlantic for five days. The food would be fabulous, they had gyms and pools and all kinds of shit. Maybe they'd do that.**

**After everything calmed down a little.**

**Maybe he would even treat Jenn and Molly, in a different cabin, obviously. Jenn would like that and Justin would like that he'd thought of it. Maybe they could be put on a different deck. It wasn't like they would have to spend every minute together.**

**Well, maybe they'd include the family another time, now that he thought about it. This would be a trip just for the two of them to get away and reconnect. Justin would like that.**

**He always liked shit like that, all that romantic shit.**

**He had loved the time they had spent on Nevis and St. Kitts but the warm glow or whatever it was had barely survived the trip back from the airport and when he'd looked at Justin next to him in the plane as they lifted off to come home he looked as sad as he had ever seen him. He hadn't wanted to leave, begging for another week but it was impossible. They both had to get back, they both had obligations.**

**Justin was supposed to be working in his studio, but his hand was hurting like a son of a bitch and after screwing up a couple of sketches he had decided that it was pointless to continue so walked over to Daphne's place, knowing she'd probably be home studying.**

**She was.**

**Their sex life was in the toilet. That was what he had been complaining about for the last twenty minutes and she was ready to tell him that he should go back to the damn loft and throw Brian in the bed or in the shower or on the couch and just rape the hell out of him. Well, maybe not rape' exactly, but have at him, anyway. That's what she would do if that was the problem, but Justin was going on about how Brian was working harder than he'd ever seen him and he had to get his paintings ready to ship to New York and they were both going on adrenalin and were tired and stressed and they'd started snapping at each other and—it all just sucked right now. **

**He knew he had to get the paintings done but all the pressure of what was going on with Brian and his new agency and the hours he was working—the hours they were both working—and knowing that the stuff he produced would be looked at by the hot shot critics and that if he messed up he'd be fucked—God, who could think about sex?**

**But, God, he was horny.**

**Did Brian have any idea how he felt?**

**Brian was too fucking busy to fuck…and that was a first.**

**So he and Daph smoked a joint, a small one, just enough to chill them both a bit—she was dealing with pre med and that was no walk in the park, either, he decided that she was right, that what Brian needed was a good ravishing and he was just the one to give it to him, Damnit.**

**OK.**

**Getting his coat he kissed Daph on the cheek, thanked her for the ear and headed out to the jeep. When he got there Eric was leaning against it.**

**"I thought this was yours." Justin gave a look a what the fuck are you doing here, you asshole' kind of look. "I live across the street. I just thought that if you want to get those canvas's we could go now."**

**Shit, he wanted to get home to screw Brian, but he needed the damn things and it could be a couple of days before they might be able to hook up again. Shit.**

**"Sure, great. Let's go." They drove over to the garage Eric used as his studio. He told Justin it belonged to a friend and was cheaper and bigger with fewer distractions than the spaces supplied by the school. The canvases were stacked by the door, ready to load out. They looked good, just what Justin was looking for.**

**"You want a beer or something?"**

**"Thanks, no. I sort of have to get home. These look great, though. Is it alright if I pay you tomorrow? I swear I'm good for it. I just don't have any money on me tonight."**

**"It's fine. Your—what is he? Your husband? He waiting for you?"**

**"Yeah, Brian. He's back home."**

**"I guess you found one guy to be with."**

**"…I was lucky."**

**Eric gave him a look, a blatant one. "I'd say he was."**

**The moment went on a few seconds too long. "I have to go. Do you need a ride back?" The mood wasn't broken, just put off and they both knew it. Justin couldn't just let it go. "…Look, I'm married, OK? This isn't going to happen."**

**Eric looked like he might cry or run away or something. "I know. It's OK. I just sort of hoped that, maybe we could hang out or something. Nothing else, I swear. I wouldn't, you know. I know you're married—that ring is pretty obvious. I know that you're with… I mean, everyone knows." He was babbling.**

**Shit. Justin knew this was coming. He'd known it since that day at the diner when he'd come looking for him and Justin had felt like total crap for being cruel t him, even if it was sort of for both their own good. "Forget it. It's OK. You need a ride?"**

**"No, I'm just going to—no."**

**"…I'll drop the money off at the office for you in the morning, that's OK?"**

**"Yeah, sure. I'll see you around."**

**"Yeah."**

**"Hey, Justin? Good luck with the show."**

**"…Thanks."**

**When he got back to the loft Brian had turned his computer off. The lights were largely off with just pools of light here and there—by the couch, the ambers were on over the bed. The jazz was playing low. There was a bottle of good champagne on the coffee table with two glasses. The Steuben bowl had perfect strawberries in it. Brian was wearing his silk robe, waiting.**

**"I thought I'd take the rest of the night off. That alright with you?"**

**Justin gave him a small smile. It was fine. At least for now, it was fine. In fact it was overdue.**

**Two weeks later they had both settled back into some kind of routine. They would usually get up around six-thirty or seven. Shower, breakfast and Brian would be out to his new office, walking in there no later than eight. Justin would wait until he was gone then move over to the studio space he'd set up for himself by the big windows. Being on leave from PIFA had forced him to relinquish his studio space, always in short supply. In the middle of everything he had been forced to make a move. Pain in the ass. Luckily the family had helped and they had gotten it done in a long morning, including the new set up. Brian had only insisted that tarps and plastic be taped down to protect the hardwood flooring. Justin had conceded without a fight. The paintings were coming along, he had twenty finished and he was pleased with how they were turning out. There were also sketches that he was considering including, but Fred was unsure about that, thinking they smacked of student class work, but had agreed to hold off a final decision until he saw everything together. **

**Eric had been given his money the next day and with the hand off—he had been hanging around the office waiting for Justin to come by with it—he had apologized, promising that it would never happen again and hoping that they could still be friends. Committing to nothing, Justin thanked him again for making up the canvas's for him and said that maybe he'd see him around. Eric seemed to hang on his words.**

**As he had left it occurred to him, not for the first time that if things had been different, if they had met in high school, say, they might well have hooked up. There had been a time when Justin had wanted the same thing. He had wanted a boyfriend to hold hands with and make love. They would be together and talk about their days and would see movies together and all of that. They would give one another small gifts and flowers. They would spend evenings curled together under a throw watching TV or reading. Once that was what he wanted and now he just thought of that as the Harlequin Romance version of things and one that wasn't real and would be almost impossible to maintain simply because life is more complicated than that.**

**Life and whom you fall in love with wasn't always convenient and it wasn't neat or polite or considerate. It was a bitch and it was hard and you didn't always win. In fact, there were more minuses than pluses and so you had to fight to hold onto the good stuff and sometimes you still lost and had to move on and try again.**

**And sometimes, rarely, you got a second chance and if you were really lucky you'd see it for what it was and grab it and make it happen the second time around. **

**Like him and Brian.**

**Sometimes.**

**The paintings were due to be shipped out in ten days. There would be a two day set up which he would be at, along with Fred and an assistant or two. He was going to rent a room, but Fred had told him that if he wanted, he was welcomed on the pull out couch at his place in the Village, he could save the money. He would get to New York on a Wednesday, they'd have Thursday and Friday to set up and the opening would be Friday evening. Brian would come in that afternoon and they would all be there to for the meet and greet scheduled for seven thirty.**

**Justin was insane with the stress he felt himself under and the least thing would set him off. That morning he had been close to tears on learning that they were out of tea. The night before he had bitched out the delivery guy because he'd brought chicken fried rice instead of pork. He was building to an explosion and Brian was trying to come up with some way to chill him out.**

**Maybe they could take that trip if he could clear a couple of weeks.**

**Fat fucking chance.**

**Brian's new agency was getting it's toe in at some of the bigger presentations that were coming up and it was based on the reputation he'd built at Ryder and Vanguard. The agency in New York, the one that had decided not to hire him a couple pf years ago, had sent some feelers his way about a possible merger or flat out buy out, depending on their performance over the first year of operation. Yes, it was premature, but they wanted Brian to know that they hoped there were no hard feelings and they had the deepest of respect for him and his abilities.**

**Knowing bullshit when he heard it, Brian wondered what that was about but kept his mouth shut. He'd find out sooner or later.**

**He kept Marvin Telson at arm's length, fobbing him off to Cynthia when he called. The contracts were signed; he wouldn't play anymore and if it cost them the renewal, then fuck it. He knew that was a mistake, but hadn't cared enough then—no, he did care, but even he had limits, even back when he had first walked out on the man. He'd made a mistake when he reversed himself and it wouldn't happen again. Justin had been right. It was shoddy and he could do better.**

**It wouldn't happen again. He knew how the whole fidelity thing mattered to Justin and while he didn't completely buy it, he had made an agreement when they'd gotten married and he would keep it. He would. No more back sliding or stoking clients the wrong way.**

**They saw Deb and the family for one of her dinners and they all commented that they both seemed to working themselves into the ground and Deb almost took him aside for one of her heart to hearts but he saw Vic waylay her, thank God.**

**Jenn had shown up one night to take them out for Italian and they had gone, resenting the time taken away from their work and cutting the evening short.**

**Molly had asked him to come to her school for some kind of career day and he told her that he'd have to get back to her then, seeing the disappointment had relented and agreed to show on the day he'd been penciled in for. Justin had thanked him later for her.**

**Sometimes he felt like he was on a treadmill and it was going too fast.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Second Year**

**April**

**The day of the opening Justin was pretending that he was completely relaxed and confidant about the whole thing and fooled no one.**

**Almost none of his friends from Pittsburgh would be able to be there, they were all simply too swamped to get away but he had arranged a small party and viewing at the loft the week before so that the family, along with his mother and Molly and Daphne would be able to see what he would be sending to New York for his first big show. Debbie had been all for just loading everyone into the girl's station wagon and having them all attend the opening, lending their moral support and swelling the numbers but then the other waitress sprained her ankle and Gus got a bad cold and Molly had that term paper due in history and Jenn had to show a couple of houses and Vic and Em had three parties that weekend—in the end they made do with seeing his things in the loft and wishing him well, promising that they would be thinking of him and not wishing him luck because he wouldn't need it.**

**He knew, they all knew, how important this was. If he did well, if his work was well received and sold he would have a career, or at least the start of one.**

**If it didn't work out and the buyers kept their checkbooks in their pockets, if the critics sneered he could look forward to live as a hack illustrator, if he was lucky.**

**Fred had taken good acre of him. He had let Justin sleep on his couch; he had shown him some of the fun little restaurants that were in his neighborhood. He had introduced him to some of his friends and the people who helped in the gallery. He was kind and smart and funny and Justin could see why Brian had become so fond on him. He reminded Justin a lot of Vic, in fact and he simply liked the man. As they worked together he also came to have a growing respect for the knowledge of what sold and what didn't. He looked at his business as little more than high end home decorating—oh, yes, he acknowledged that there was a line that was crossed over when a piece hit that rung he termed art', but those were few and far between and nothing could be counted on to set him off more than to have some college kid refer to himself as an artist'.**

**"Rembrandt was an artist. Martha Graham was an artist. Paul Robeson was an artist, Maria Callas and Richard Avedon. YOU are someone who paints."**

**When Justin then asked why he was being given a show he was told, kindly, that it was a business and his work was salable. If he kept at it maybe, in a decade or two or three, he would be worth the title. In the meantime, there was nothing wrong with selling what he had to offer.**

**By four the gallery was ready. Brian had called and would be there as close to seven as he could possibly make it. He had phoned from Pittsburgh airport that his flight was delayed but expected to be in the air within the hour. He would cab in from Newark Airport (now renamed Liberty Airport after the 9/11 disaster) and would see them soon.**

**Trying to calm Justin somewhat, Fred took him for an early dinner at a small Japanese place he was fond of not far from the gallery. He had changed into a good black turtleneck he had coveted along with the Armani slacks Brian had deemed suitable. His shoes were new and Prada, also from Brian who insisted that if he was going to make an entrance he should be dressed reasonably well. As they walked the three blocks to the restaurant, Fred hoped that with any luck he would be able to have the youngster calmed down enough to deal with the invited guests and the critics who be arriving in a couple in hours. It wasn't all just about the work. Justin had to schmooze and from what Fred had seen at the group show last year, he would be fine once things got started and he would just go with the evening, especially if Brian showed up as promised.**

**The trick would be to get him to that point.**

**At six thirty Justin was sure that the paintings should be rearranged, by seven he was convinced that no one would show up and by seven thirty Brian was still not there and he was sure that he had either missed the flight, it had crashed or the traffic was bumper to bumper and he was stranded on the Pulaski Skyway.**

**At quarter to eight the first guests started to walk in, by eight fifteen the critics had started to show and by eight thirty seven paintings were sold, the wine was flowing well and Justin had been air kissed beyond all reason. He was this season's it' boy, Park Avenue matrons were asking if he accepted commissions and when he caught Fred's eye, he grinned.**

**At nine Brian finally showed, dressed better than any of them and drawing eyes just because he was Brian. He moved smoothly through the room, stopping by Justin, put his arm around the boy and kissed him full on, his other hand holding his jaw and moving up to his cheek. "I knew you'd do it."**

**"I was afraid that you wouldn't make it in time."**

**"I told you I'd be here…I always come when I say I'm going to."**

**"Later." The familiar smile.**

**"Count on it." With a small kiss, Justin moved off to talk to a woman who had just bought one of his paintings for more money than he had made the entire previous year. She was tall and thin and wearing the expected black with tasteful but obvious jewelry that could have paid for his entire school tuition for all four years. She wanted him to meet her husband and hoped that he did children's portraits—in fact now that she thought about it, maybe he could an entire family group if he had the time? He tried to come up with a noncommittal answer without either insulting her or blowing her off. He could probably be talked into it, but he wanted to know what would be a fair price before he completely screwed up that end of things.**

**Damn, he knew he had to get an agent, but Fred had been doing that end of things for him the last few months and he hadn't concerned himself with it as much as he probably should have. If Brian knew that he was neglecting the business end of things he'd have his balls on a platter.**

**And speaking of the business end of things, Brian wasn't naïve enough to think at he was just there as a supportive spouse. He worked the crowd for a good hour and a half, smiling, shaking hands, tactfully making sure people that people knew who he was and what he did for a living. Business cards were exchanged with several people and there would be phone calls in a few days feeling each other out. **

**Business was business, where ever you found it and an art gallery was a good as place as any to strike up contacts. That's how these things were done; he and Justin presented a united front, a complete package and image of sophisticated and erudite players on the scene. If Justin was too young to know the importance of that, Brian certainly wasn't.**

**Fred came over, smiling and handing Brian a glass of wine. "I got your old favorite. You still drink zinfandel?"**

**"I do, thanks, Fred." He indicated the room and Justin standing ten feet away. "It seems to be going well."**

**"Your husband has become the artiste du jour, I believe. You should be proud of him."**

**"I am. How long might the jour' last?"**

**"Until the next one comes along. Art is fashion, you know that. It has a longer shelf life than your shoes, but these things don't last, usually." He caught the look. Brian was taking it as a slight to Justin. "Of course he might be one of comets that don't burn out. It's happened before."**

**"But not often."**

**"You know that as well as I do."**

**"He doesn't. He thinks this is the start of everything."**

**"Maybe it is. Probably not. He'll have a few years I'm sure and he could find a niche that won't fade out, but the economy isn't good now and he's young. Part of the reason he's selling tonight is because his things are inexpensive compared to other works. Oh—don't take what I'm saying wrong, Brian. Your young man is really quite good and should have a nice career. I'm just not convinced yet that he has the ability to take it to the next level." He gave Brian a smile, they were old friends and he wanted to keep it that way. "Of course he could be the one with the pixie dust on him. It does happen."**

**He heard what Fred was telling him and that was alright. Justin was good. His career would be fine and he might even be one of the ones who made it big. He probably wouldn't, but then lightning didn't strike too often. He would do well, in all likelihood. He was proud of Justin, proud of his work and the passion that drove him and there were times when it amazed him that they were still together after everything that had happened over the last few years.**

**They seemed like they would be fine.**

**The evening ended well. Justin spoke to the critic from the Times who had remembered him from the group show last fall and who seemed pleased with his new work. The editor from Art News who had done that short piece on him was back again and wanted a follow up if he could spare some time in the morning. Three more pieces sold before the gallery closed its doors.**

**Around eleven Justin and Brian were talking quietly in a back corner, sitting, holding hands, resting and reliving the evening. **

**"You two plan to share my couch? I was just leaving if you are."**

**"Thanks, but I booked us a room at the Ritz Carleton. I thought that Justin and I should have a celebration, if you don't mind." Justin threw his arms around Brian, kissing him loudly and behaving embarrassingly like a teenager. **

**"Mind? Dear God. I'd never get a minute's sleep listening to you two go at it all night. Justin—be back by ten thirty tomorrow, Jess wants to do that follow up with you and he has a deadline. Don't be late, alright?"**

**"I'll be here. Fred? Thank you. This was awesome. I mean—thank you." He was on his feet; his arms around Fred and getting a good hug in return. **

**"You'll make us both some money and then you can support Brian the way he would like to be supported. Of course the only one who could afford that would be Donald Trump, but he's straight, thank God. That hair is enough to frighten the help and the horses." He opened the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Johnny will lock up. It went well tonight, Justin, you did well."**

**Justin and Brian cabbed their way to the hotel, stopping at Fred's so Justin could get his things. The Champaign was waiting in the ice filled bucket along with the strawberries that they had taken to having for whenever they decided that a celebration was in order.**

**They made love gently and carefully then they made love quick and hard then they made love in the shower to clean themselves off.**

**Justin was happy, giddy, relieved. He had sold ten paintings, Fred had told him that five people had asked for the name of his agent for commission work and Brian had made it after all. His leave from PIFA could be extended unless he seriously missed his guess and he had an interview tomorrow with one of the editors of Art News. His last conscious thought before sleep was, Jesus, he was happy.**

**He woke up to the obnoxious sound of a phone ringing. It was nine; Mr. Kinney had left a wake up call. The other side of the bed was empty; Brian must be in the bathroom.**

**"Brian? Do you want me to order you breakfast?…Brian?" No answer. He got out of bed. The bathroom was empty, Brian wasn't in the room. Maybe he'd decided to hit the hotel gym? That would be the sort of thing he might do. Pulling on his jeans and a shirt he was about to call down there when he saw the note on the desk:**

**_"J-_**

**_I had to take an early flight back to put out a couple of fires. I'll see you tomorrow—I'll be at the airport when your plane gets in._**

**_I'm proud of you._**

**_B"_**

**Shit. He hadn't even woken him up to say goodbye or anything. Shit.**

**He still had to beat the galley by ten thirty. Shit.**

**Picking up the phone he ordered some food, got himself a quick shower, put his clothes back on and got ready for his day. He knew that he had to stay in New York until his plane out in the morning. There were things for him to do at the gallery, he had to talk with Fred and he had to go over what would happen next. There was that interview and he should call those people who wanted him to do paintings of their kids or their dogs or whatever the fuck they wanted.**

**He wished that Brian were still there. They could have done all of this—shit—they could have done all of this together.**

**Damnit. He wasn't even twenty years old and he had his first solo show in New York friggin City and he wanted his husband next to him to tell him how great he was and to hold his hand and to help him deal with all the bullshit that he had to deal with now. **

**Goddamnit.**

**He wanted Brian. He didn't want to be doing this, this first real big thing in his career alone. He wanted Brian. He wanted his husband with him. He did. Yes, sure, Brian was busy and he had a lot of pressure on him now and all of that, he knew that—but this was just one more day and—Damnit, Brian should have stayed. It was the weekend, what could be so damn important that it couldn't wait or Cynthia or someone couldn't deal with it or he couldn't handle in over the damn phone.**

**Damnit.**

**He looked at the clock, after ten. He had to go. He'd promised Fred that he wouldn't be late.**

**Damnit.**

**He cabbed over to the gallery. Fred was already there and greeted him with a hug and coffee from down the street. The calls were coming in, people wanting to know about his availability for commission work, where he was based out of, how long his backlog might be and how long would the show be running so they could get in to see what they had missed last night if they hadn't been able to make the opening.**

**"You done good, kid." Fred saw the look on his face. Justin wasn't that good an actor and it was apparent that something was wrong—though what it could be this morning had Fred wondering for the ten seconds before he made the connection. Of course. "Brian had to leave?"**

**"Business."**

**"…That's Brian."**

**"I know."**

**The guy from Art News showed up, asking about being the new it' artist and asking the expected questions about how this would change things for him—both financially and personally. In truth, it was still so new that it hadn't sunk in yet and that was basically what Justin told him. Fred offered that he would be busy for the next year or so and they might arrange another show at a sister gallery in San Francisco when Justin felt that he was ready. Justin managed to give no reaction to the news he hadn't been consulted about before it came out of Fred's mouth.**

**They took some photos, took some of the slides that had been prepared, thanked Justin for his time, wished him well and left. Justin and Fred spent the next several hours going over paperwork, percentages and the like, talking about which people he should get back to and which could wait. They spoke about how often he should show up at the gallery and when he might have things ready for the west coast. The one thing they didn't talk about was Brian and they both knew that they had to.**

**"You know that he supports you and that he's proud of you. I saw the look on his face last night."**

**"I know." God, Justin was so young.**

**"He flew in for one day to be with you while he's trying to establish a new business. That should tell you that."**

**"It does. I know, OK Fred? I do."**

**"So what's the problem? That he had to leave early? He showed up, Justin. Look at that side of it."**

**"Big fucking deal. He showed up—late—and split as soon as he could."**

**Christ. Teenagers. "That's right, he showed up and he stayed as long as he could before he had to go back to work. Don't be a frigging queen. He loves you, he married you and he supports what you're doing both emotionally and financially."**

**Fred's answer was a stony silence and a frozen face.**

**"Get over yourself, Justin. He's doing the best he can and you know that. He's breaking his balls to get his new agency off the ground—show him the same consideration he's giving you or you'll end up with a studio full of paintings and not much else, princess." He glanced at the ring on Justin's finger. "He put that on you and he won't take it off of you—you can do that if you're not careful, honey."**

**Angry, Justin grabbed his jacket, shoved his arms into it. "We're finished for today?" Fred nodded. He knew the boy would cool down given some time. **

**Turning, Justin walked out the gallery door and moved half a block down the street so Fred couldn't see him through the windows. He pulled his cel out of his pocket. He had dialed the number and was listening to it ring on the other end when he felt a hand on his arm. Startled, he turned to see who was there, half expecting a mugger or a panhandler.**

**"Eric."**

**"Hey. I heard that you had opened a show in the city and, I…my Mom lives here and I, I thought that, I decided to see for myself…while I was visiting her." He was stammering, embarrassed. "I didn't know you'd be here. Honest."**

**Justin relented. "You want to see the show?" Eric looked like a puppy someone had just decided to adopt, eager and happy and hopeful. "C'mon."**

**They went into the gallery, Fred looking up when the door opened. He nodded a greeting and kept his face blank. He didn't know who this other kid was, but it was obvious that he and Justin knew each other and that the new kid was hoping for crumbs. He wouldn't tell Brian, it was likely that he already knew—Brian would make things like this his business to know and he had no desire to get into the inner workings of their relationship. It was between the two of them.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Second Year**

**May**

**Brian had picked Justin up at the airport the day after Eric had shown up in New York to see his paintings at the gallery. **

**He never asked what Justin had done that day and a half that he had spent in the city after Brian had been called back to Pittsburgh and if he had any suspicions, he kept them to himself. Justin did notice that he was quieter than usual on the ride back to the loft and that night in the shower he seemed to be looking for marks, but there were none. **

**He never asked and Justin never volunteered. It didn't matter. They both knew.**

**Fred never spoke about his suspicions, thinking it was none of his business, and Brian never asked him, either.**

**If Brian kept more to himself and spent even more time getting his new agency on firm footing, well then, Justin knew that was what he had to be doing just then. He was often down at his new office, starting early, working late and skipping meals. The pattern from last year was back with a vengence but Justin was almost too concerned with his own tight schedule to make more of an effort with his husband. He knew, when he grudgingly allowed his throughts free range, that part of the problem was of his own making, but he would manage to rationalize these ideas away or simply push them to a back burner.**

**He knew that Brian was exhausting himself, that he was losing weight again and that the circles were back under his eyes. He seemed almost apathetic other than when it came to work. He almost never went to Woody's or Babylon, he would snap at Justin if he asked a question when he was absorbed in something on his computer and he declined almost all invitations, telling Justin to go without him and have a good time.**

**In bed he would, when he finally got there, hold Justin gently, spoon behind him and stroke his arm or cheek, but sex was either rushed—almost frenzied—or so slow and languid that Justin was too embarrassed to admit that it went so long that he was sore and a little bored by the end of it.**

**Finally one day Brian was sitting alone in the diner between the breakfast and the lunch rush, quietly nursing his third cup of coffee and going over some report when Debbie sat down oppisite him with her own cup and stared at him until he gave her a glare.**

**"You gonna tell me what crawled up your ass?"**

**"My ass is fine, thank you."**

**"Well the rest of you is full of shit, then. You've been moping around like a teenager whose boyfriend forgot to call for three weeks now. Spill, kiddo. What happened?" She went for the direct attack. "You and Justin have a fight?"**

**"No and butt out." He repeated his glare but Debbie has seen it too many times for it to bother her.**

**"You know me better than that." She tried a half smile which he pretended to ignore. "Brian, honey, what's wrong?"**

**For a long moment she thought that he was simply going to get up and leave but he leaned back against the wall, one foot up on the seat and looked at his hands then said, almost to himself, "I don't know what the point is anymore."**

**Whatever she thought he might say, that wasn't it. "What point, sweetie?"**

**"…All of it." He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts, probably articulating whatever had been bothering him for the first time, even to himself. No one else was in the place, they had it to themselves. "I used to think that being the best at my job, making the most money, screwing whoever I wanted was the point. You know, having the most toys, doing what I want, fuck you' to my parents."**

**"And then you met Justin and he threw you for a loop, right?"**

**"He was just another factor in the equation, another toy, another notch on the belt"**

**That was pure Brian, talking logic and planning, everything plotted out and planned. And she knew damn well that Justin may have started as just another score, but he sure as hell had been more than that for a long time. "Uh-huh. So what's the problem? You've been looking like someone took your puppy since you got back from Justin's show."**

**He looked down at his wedding ring. It was probably an unconscious move but it told Deb what had happened. One of them had a fling, maybe more than a fling and judging from Brian's mood her money was that either Justin had met someone—which she thought unlikely after the whole mess with Ethan—or that Brian had and Justin had found out about it and they were trying to work it out and weren't having much success.**

**She stalled for some time while she tried to decide how to handle this, if that was what it was. "The new agency is doing alright?"**

**"It's fine." For Brian to say that he must be making money hand over fist. **

**"Then you sit your husband down and you two talk about whatever the problem is because if you don't it will grow so big and so ugly that you'll never get past it. You hear me?"**

**That was the sort of thing that would normally be guaranteed to get a rise of him but he just sat there. This was worse than she had thought and she was used to drama queens.**

**"…That's where I don't know if there's still any point left." From the look on his face, all still and closed, she knew what that sentence had cost him. So that was the problem, she was right. One of them, probably him, had been screwing around and it was tearing them up. Shit.**

**"Then you apologize to him for whatever—or whoever you did. You hear me? While you still can."**

**He started to say something but stopped himself, just nodding instead then getting his report, kissing her on the cheek and leaving.**

**Deb hoped that he would. She thought he might and unless Sunshine had been too hurt to forgive him, they may be able to patch things up. **

**This time.**

**Brian had told Molly that he would show up at her school for that frigging career day thing. In fact he had asked her why she didn't pick her own father or her mother or even Justin, but she had told him that the kids would get a kick out of seeing the ads he'd made up since they'd all seen them and besides, he was hotter than anyone in her family.**

**Smart ass. She knew the way to his heart. So he plastered one of his less snarky smiles on his face and arrived at the school when he'd been asked to. He knew better than to wear one of his suits for this crowd—he knew how to sell the sizzle—and had dressed himself in his usual worn jeans and a fitted black sweater. He looked good and he knew it.**

**In the classroom, he waited while one of the other parents, a balding man who ran a company that made sacks for grain products talked about the intricacies of burlap and tensile strength needed to contain fifty pounds of corn. To the man's considerable credit, he almost made it not boring. Almost.**

**When it was Brian's turn he walked up to the front of the classroom, ignoring the girls giggling, sat himself down on the edge of the teacher's desk and explained that in his opinion, what sold product was sex. Sex sold and then proceeded to show them some of the ads he'd produced to illustrate his point of view. He managed to do it with a degree of taste that most of his friends wouldn't have thought him capable of and showed the kids his wares without offending anyone—quite a feat when you considered that one of his tag lines was "Eat the meat", an insinuation lost on no one in the room.**

**Molly was beside herself knowing that the kids knew that she was related to this smooth hunk and blushed when he teasingly called her Sis'.**

**It was a classic Brian Kinney performance; smooth, practiced and professional. He was in the business of selling and he sold himself well. It was, when you came down to it the reason he was so good at his job.**

**As he was finishing up he saw Jennifer slip into the back of the room, some kind of school book in hand. Probably Molly had forgotten the thing that morning and being Jennifer and not Joan Kinney, hand delivered it before it was needed.**

**His time up, the questions finished, the teacher thanked him for coming in and sharing with them and he left the room with a smattering of applause. Jenn followed him out to the hall, closing the classroom door behind them.**

**"Thank you for doing that for Molly. She was so excited this morning, I think she changed her clothes at least four times."**

**"It's alright, I didn't mind helping her." He made a move to go.**

**"What's going on between you and Justin?" She seemed almost afraid to ask. He knew that she had been expecting them to bust up a long time ago and probably just thought that the inevitable had happened.**

**Screw this. "What do you mean?"**

**"Brian, don't play dumb. He's miserable and so are you. What's happened?"**

**Shit. He really didn't want to get into this with her. "We're fine, just busy, that's all. He's probably tired."**

**She wasn't buying it. "Are you having an affair?" He raised his eyebrow. None of her fucking business. "Are you? Justin said that you left New York a day early and he's been a mess ever since. Is it someone you're still seeing or just a—trick?" Even saying the word made her blush.**

**Screw this, even if she was his mother. "What's between me and Justin is none of your business."**

**"Of course it is and you answer my question."**

**Fine, let her know her angle's wings were bent. "I haven't been with anyone other than Justin since before we got married."**

**"Is that the truth?"**

**"I always tell the truth." She was trying to decide if he was lying to her. "So you do the math." Jenn's eyes widened enough to tell him she got it. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."**

**"Justin? Are you busy?"**

**"…Yeah, look—this isn't a good idea."**

**"I was hoping that we could maybe get a cup of coffee or something."**

**"I have to get home."**

**"I didn't mean to make any problems for you. Honest to God. I just wanted us to be, you know, I wanted us to be friends."**

**"No you didn't. You wanted us to fuck."**

**"That wasn't why I went there. I swear. I didn't even know you'd be there that morning. I thought that you and Brian would be…I don't know. I thought that you'd be, you know, somewhere.**

**"Screw it…It was my fault. I, we didn't have to—I could have stopped it."**

**"But I followed you to New York. I knew that you're married and all. I'm really…God, I heard that you two are having problems now and I feel really bad about that. I swear that I never thought—I didn't want to make trouble for you."**

**"Bullshit. Of course you did. You were looking to get my ass in your bed and you didn't give a rat's…Shit, look, forget it. I was there, too."**

**"Hey, Justin…"**

**"No, fuck it. It doesn't matter. I could have said no."**

**"Are you going to be OK?"**

**"Yeah, sure. I'm fine."**

**"I mean you and Brian. Are you going to be alright?"**

**"Yeah. I, yeah."**

**"I could talk to him if you want, I could…"**

**"And you'd say what? Sorry I followed your husband four hundred miles so I could nail him?…No hard feelings, have a nice day'?"**

**"I…just meant that I could…"**

**"Right. I've got to go."**

**That evening Justin was cutting vegetables for dinner when Brian came through the door. They exchanged a look, an unspoken question about what sort of evening they'd be having—pleasant, armed truce, snark or outright hostility. It seemed fairly benign for starters. Hanging up his coat, leaving his briefcase on his desk, Brian crossed up to the bedroom, returning in a couple of minutes wearing a pair of loose workout pants and a wife beater. Evidently he had no plans for going out.**

**"Are you hungry?"**

**"No, not really." He looked at the half prepared dinner. "Sorry. I had a late lunch."**

**"It doesn't matter." Justin started to put the things away, to clear the counter. Brian sat on the couch, watching the end of the news, after a few minutes they were seated next to one another, not touching and pretending to listen to Peter Jennings.**

**"Brian, I'm sorry." It was so quiet that it was almost inaudible.**

**Brian turned his head, looking at Justin, studying him. "I know that you are." He half shrugged. "I take it that you want me to forgive you and then we can move forward, is that it?" He was so young, young enough he still thought that saying he was sorry would make it all better. Brian knew that Justin had broken it off with the other boy—in fact he hadn't even bothered to learn the kid's name, knowing it didn't matter any more than Ethan had mattered. He knew it wasn't important just as he knew that it would likely happen again at some point. It wouldn't happen for a while because Justin was ashamed and still looking for the vine covered cottage, but sooner or later it would happen and then he didn't know what he would do. **

**When he had asked Justin to get married almost a year and a half ago, he had hoped himself that things would go well and that they would be enough for one another all the time, day in and day out, but he was doubtful now that would happen.**

**They might well stay together, he believed that they genuinely loved one another, but there would be temptations and they would slip, probably both of them would slip and they had to decide if that hurt more than being apart would.**

**"Please, Brian." The same quiet voice, "I'm so sorry."**

**"I know you are."**

**Stretching his arm around Justin's shoulders, he pulled the youngster against his side and, turning his head, kissed his temple.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Second Year**

**June**

**It was finally warm outside and both Brian and Justin were determined to make sure that problems like New York didn't happen again.**

**The agency was doing well quickly and Brian had been to several meetings with Gardner Vance to discuss the possibility of a merger or buyout, neither of which Brian was too interested in just yet but there was no reason to burn bridges.**

**He and Justin were treating each other gently, as though they were afraid to cause one another any more pain or hurt and though they both felt like they were walking on eggshells, at least home life was calm. True, they avoided anything that might lead to any kind of conflict or unpleasantness, but they did keep their voices from rising and tried to be considerate of one another.**

**The things that they weren't saying left them both frustrated and angry, but this was new territory to both of them and neither was sure how to make it better so they continued on the eggshells. The fact that they were both busy and often not home at the same time both helped and hindered, but for now neither was willing to rock the boat, perhaps afraid that they might drown in everything that wasn't being said.**

**Brian was spending a lot of time trying to build their client base more than it was and Justin was busy getting pieces finished for the show Fred had set up for him in San Francisco in the fall. Eric had kept his word and had made no effort to contact Justin again, though occasionally he would see him walking around on Liberty Avenue. They would nod at one another or ignore each other as seemed right at the time.**

**Justin wished he would move to London or Philadelphia or Manila but maintained his WASP manners and kept his thoughts to himself.**

**Brian never said anything about what had happened in New York and Justin never brought up the fact that Brian had screwed Marvin the Tire King to get the account in the beginning of the year.**

**He tried to tell himself hat they were even, but he knew better. Marvin had been business, Eric had been a payback. Marvin didn't matter to him and Brian as a couple any more than taking a client to dinner would matter to them. Eric was different. Eric was personal.**

**And so things stood for the first couple of weeks of June. They danced around one another, never quite saying what needed to be said and never quite resolving anything, both waiting for the other to make the first real move. **

**Neither one was ready to do that or perhaps they simply didn't know how.**

**Their friends, the family' would look at the two of them and shake their heads and talk among themselves and even take one or the other aside to make them do something, but nothing seemed to work.**

**They did try, though. They thought about going away together, maybe up to Justin's grandparent's place in Canada where they'd been last summer. They talked about maybe going to Europe together or even Tahiti but in the end both of them were simple too busy to think about leaving just then, Brian's agency was still new and Justin still had commissions to fill from the show in New York. They paid well, certainly they paid well for a young artist who was still trying to get established, and he insisted that he needed to contribute his fair share. **

**Brian tried to tell him that they were doing OK financially and they were, all things considered, but Justin had heard enough snide comments about being the little woman and Brian's twat to not be angry about the situation. He insisted that he put the money that came in from his sales into a common account for both of their use. Brian tried to insist that he set up his own finances and establish his own line of credit and all of that, but raised in the WASP school of thought, Justin insisted that everything be shared equally.**

**Yes, he knew that Brian still has holdings from before they'd married and he had that share of his great grandmother's trust fund, which was still in another bank, but those things were different. That stuff had come about before they were together. It wasn't the same. The money they made after they had gotten married, that he wanted to be theirs'.**

**It was another little chink in the dam. Something else that they didn't talk about and so was allowed to fester.**

**Then the call came in.**

**They were eating dinner, exchanging small talk. Brian was going to let the machine get it since he disliked being interrupted during a meal, but Justin gave him a look and picked up.**

**"Justin? Sweetie?"**

**"Yes, Mom?"**

**"Sweetie, I hate to just call, I know I should have come over to get you, but I don't want to leave Molly."**

**"Mom? …What's going on? Is something wrong?"**

**"Justin, it's your father. He was in an accident. His car hit a phone pole and he's been brought to Allegheny General."**

**"Oh, shit. Should I come?" **

**"Yes, honey, I think you that would be a good idea." **

**"I'll leave now." Brian was looking at him. "My Dad was hurt, I'm going to the hospital."**

**"I'll drive you." A nod and they left the meal sitting on the table, pausing only to blow out the candles and turn of a couple of lights.**

**The hospital wasn't far. Maybe fifteen minutes and Brian let him off at the emergency entrance before parking the car. Even after all the shit Craig had put him through, all the rejection and insults—even after all of that, Justin would never completely tune him out and Brian knew that he'd be at the hospital every damn day his father was there. He'd bring books and his sketch pad and he'd stock up on stories and jokes and eventually he'd get around—if Craig would let him—he would get around to telling him about how they were doing together. He would tell his father about his marriage and his friends and his hopes and his schooling and his first big show in New York. He would brag, while trying to pretend that he was nonchalant about the whole thing, about the prices his paintings were generating and that he had another show coming up in a few months and maybe-maybe—Craig might make it out to the West Coast for a day or two and they could spend some time together there, just the two of them.**

**Brian walked into the waiting room for the emergency room. Justin was there, hugging his mother and Molly was standing next to them, the perfect picture of a concerned family group. He went over to them; his arm went around Molly and asked if there was any news. **

**Jenn answered, "They said he swerved to avoid hitting a dog that ran into the road and hit the pole. The car was totaled. I don't know—they said that he broke some ribs and I don't know …"**

**A doctor, youngish and harried looking came over to them. "Mrs. Taylor? I'm Dr. Rothenberg, I was just in with your husband." There was no reason to stand on ceremony and tell the man they were divorced. "He was pretty lucky, all things considered because the police told me that the airbag didn't inflate for some reason and he hit the steering wheel pretty hard. The belt probably saved his life. He's broken four ribs and fractured his sternum, but he should heal. He's going to be sore and we'd like to keep him for a couple of days for observation, but he should be alright." He stood watching the relief he was getting used to seeing in this job. It beat the Hell out of the cries and shock when things turned out differently. "You can see him one at a time if you'd like, just keep it short. He'll be moved upstairs in a while."**

**Brian knew Justin would want to see his father. Of course he would. He was also fairly sure that Craig would rather skip a get-well visit from his son in law. Things seemed under control here. Jenn was in with her ex, he touched Justin's arm. "I have something to do. Will you be alright here for a couple of hours?" He nodded, his attention on the curtained cubicle twenty feet down the hall. "I have my cel if you need me." Another nod, a kiss to Molly's cheek and he was in his car pulling out of the lot.**

**Twenty minutes later he was knocking on the door. The overhead light went on, the door still squeaked just as it had fifteen years ago.**

**"May I come in?"**

**"…If you want. What on earth brings you here?" She was sober for once and seemed pleasantly surprised to see him. **

**"I wanted to ask you about some things, if that's alright."**

**She stood aside to let him pass. "Would you like a drink?"**

**"No, thanks. I'm fine." She looked disappointed. **

**They went into the living room. It was formal, proper. He was a guest here and would leave soon. He was a stranger; an interloper and they both knew it.**

**"I pray for you, Brian. Everyday. You have a special place in my prayers."**

**"Yes, I'm sure you do, Mom." She was pouring herself a glass of wine. He shook his head at a second offer.**

**"What did you want to know, darling?"**

**"Just some family history." She gave him a level look. She knew him well enough to know when he was about to drop one of his bombshells.**

**"Whatever do you want to dredge that up for?"**

**"I've noticed that some things seem to run in the family and I thought that I might gain some—insight, that's all."**

**"Did you? What sort of things are you talking about? I thought that you'd distanced yourself as far from us as you could, starting about twenty years ago, as I recall.**

**This wasn't what he'd wanted to do. He really did want to hear what she had to say. He really had been thinking about the Kinney family and the various members. **

**He smiled. "I was wondering—I've been wondering—why didn't you ever divorce Dad? I know all about burning in Hell and being excommunicated and all of that shit, but when you knew what he was like and that it was all over between you, why did you stay?"**

**"You just said yourself, Brian. You know what the Church's teachings are on marriage. You know that divorce isn't sanctioned and you certainly should know that I couldn't do anything that would prevent me from the comfort and the acceptance I've found there." She drained her glass. "You've always known that."**

**He was serious. This wasn't about scoring points. "But there was help available for you and for me and Claire. The church didn't condone abuse"—he realized what he had just said—"Well, they would have done something, anyway"**

**" Wither thou goest, I will go.' You know that the wife must obey the husband. You know the teachings on this as well as I do. What brings this up? Are you thinking of getting married?"**

**She pointedly ignored his left hand. "I am married, Mom, you know that."**

**"Not in the eyes of the Lord or in the laws of this state." She gave him one of her looks—one of his looks. "Are you and that young man having problems? Is that what this is about?" She actually softened slightly and he remembered when he could talk with her, how important that had been to him once.**

**"What did you do when you found out Jack was having affairs?"**

**"It's painful, darling, I know." She poured her third glass. "I did nothing because I knew there was nothing to be done. I couldn't leave him and I doubted that he would leave me. We reached an agreement about it."**

**"You stopped sleeping with him."**

**"Well, I couldn't after he'd been with—I simply couldn't, Brian."**

**"Did you ever trust him again?"**

**"No, I simply couldn't after I found out what he'd done."**

**He knew. He'd felt the same way.**

**"Your young man, he's found someone he'd rather be with?"**

**"…I don't think so. I'm just not sure he wants to be with me.**

**"Darling, I know that, despite what I may think, you consider this marriage' of yours to be real. Are you thinking about a divorce'?"**

**"I don't want one." He smiled at himself. "I never thought I'd ever get married to anyone and when I did I went into it knowing that…"**

**"Knowing what, Brian?"**

**"That you can't trust anyone."**

**She drained her glass one last time. "You're right, darling. You can't."**

**He gave her a long look, evaluating what she had just said, weighing her words. "I have to go. I told Justin I'd pick him up about now."**

**As he left, as she watched the tail lights disappear down the street, she wondered if Brian would ever find his way in life. She had worried about him from before he was born and she still did, though he'd never believe that. He had always fought against everything—against her and Jack, against school and his teachers, against the church. She prayed that one day he would find the path.**

**At the hospital Jenn had left with Molly and Justin was sitting in his father's room. Craig was asleep, perhaps he was sedated.**

**"Ready?"**

**"Yes. Let's go."**

**"Is her going to be alright?"**

**"They say he will be. He was talking a little while ago. He's glad that we were all here. I think it made a difference."**

**"Good." They walked to the elevator. "Want to stop? I'm getting hungry."**

**"Sure. Where did you go?"**

**"I had to talk to someone about some research I've been doing."**

**"Get it done?"**

**"No, not yet. I was thinking. Next month? I think we should make a point of getting away."**

**Justin turned to him, his smile in place, thw quiet one. "Yes, I'd like that."**


	7. Chapter 7

**Second Year**

**July**

**The sun was getting hot. He could smell that particular odor a dock has when it's been baking in the sun for hours and Brian was thinking about how good a beer would taste right about now. A cold beer, in a glass bottle, no can. Coors—no, Sam Adams—no, Heineken. Yes, a Heineken, that's what he wanted. A glass bottle with drops of condensation dripping down the side that he could wipe across his forehead. He'd run the cold glass across his face, even if it looked gross and then he'd tip the top of the bottle into his mouth. He could feel the cold, the bitter in his mouth and on his tongue—maybe it would be a little too cold and he would get that instant ice cream headache you get when you eat ice cream too fast. He almost never ate ice cream and he had never told anyone that a cold beer on a hot day would do it to him. That was pussy and no one would ever accuse him of that. No one, Damnit.**

**He could picture the bottle on the dock beside him, feel the smoothness in his hand and the coolness. He could picture the wet ring it would leave on the old wood of the dock, silver with age and weather. **

**He could picture it, he could feel it, he could even taste it.**

**But he'd have to get up, walk the long length of the dock, up the stone steps to the shore, up the path to the house, up the wood steps to the front door, and through the front porch, the living room and into the kitchen to get the bottle from the fridge. He could almost imagine the cold when he opened the white door, hear the clink as he pulled out the beer, hear the snap and the fizzle when he opened the lid and see the two seconds or so of steam or vapor come out of the bottle—he pictured every step of the entire operation, from start to finish, every move, every step, every nuance and after all that the thought of having to do it all again seemed so, well, it seemed unfair.**

**He'd just gone through all the motions, at least in his mind**

**That should be enough, Damnit. The beer should be there now and he should be just getting settled back on the towel covered foam mat he'd been dozing on for the last couple of hours.**

**Mentally sighing and cursing the small nightmare he was caught up in, he was about to open his eyes, roll over and get to his feet when he heard foot steps coming towards him down the length of the wood planking, stopping beside him.**

**"I thought you could use this about now." The cold glass against his arm felt fabulous, but he wouldn't admit that. Not a chance.**

**"Fucking twat. That's cold."**

**"You are such a princess." He was being laughed at and that would have pissed him off if it wasn't Justin and if he didn't know that he was being teased—and that there would be payback later in bed. He sat up, took the beer being handed to him and tapped it against Justin's bottle and took a long pull. It was as good as he'd imagined it, maybe better.**

**His eyes open and his brain a bit clearer, he managed a coherent sentence. "Did you finish that sketch you were going to work on?"**

**"Yes, but on the way back I stopped down at the boathouse to just, I don't know, just look around, and you'll never believe what I saw down there. It was incredible—you've got to come with me."**

**He definitely wasn't awake for this. "No idea, what did you see?" Naked fish? Seaweed? A dead snake in the water?**

**"The big snapper." **

**Blank look. "The Big Snapper?"**

**"Shit, Brian, I must have told you about him. He's a local legend. He's been back there since my family has been coming up here and you almost never see him. You've got to fucking see this thing, he was right at the shore by the dock of the boathouse—you've got to come. He's fucking amazing, honest to God."**

**A turtle. A fucking snapping turtle. Uh-huh. "Well, he's probably gone by now."**

**"Shit, no, they don't move that fast, he's sunning himself, he'll still be there. Come on." His hand was being pulled. Shit. Justin had a bug on about this and that meant he wouldn't let it go. Shit.**

**Obviously there was nothing to be done but to get the hell to his feet, shove some sandals on and walk the damn quarter mile through the damn woods to the damn boathouse to see some—what the fuck was it? A damn turtle?—that had probably headed out to sea by now.**

**Fine.**

**Accepting the inevitable, he moved, allowing Justin to pull him up they made their way down to the boathouse, Justin practically scampering and telling him all about the damn turtle legend. Twenty years ago—or was or forty? Whatever—his grandfather had been working down at the boathouse and looked up to see the snapper between him and shore. Doing the only thing he could think of, he threw the shovel he was using at the thing—the turtle bit the wooden handle in half. And then flew to the top of the trees and laid eggs while playing a rumba through his butt' ran through Brian's mind—fortunately staying there. Christ.**

**The thing was still there and it was the biggest fucking turtle Brian had ever seen. OK, he had screwed around in the local ponds when he was a kid and sometimes they'd see snappers that were a foot or so across but this fucker—shit—he was three feet from shell tip to shell tip, he was a big as a fucking wash tub and smelled like a damn sewer with all the moss and shit that was growing on him. He heard them or saw them or something, turned his head, took a good look, seemed to say fucking tourists' to himself and slipped off the fallen tree he'd been sunning on and disappeared without a ripple.**

**Justin was right. He was amazing.**

**"Jesus." **

**"Yeah."**

**They walked back to the house, hand in hand.**

**They had been up at the house in Canada for almost two weeks and were doing well. They had agreed that neither of them would bring any work with them and that they would spend the time just trying to reconnect. Well, OK, Brian did bring the laptop, but he only used it to check his e-mails once a day and Justin did bring his sketchpads, but you might have well asked him to leave his arm behind and he had agreed that he would go easy with them. In fact almost everything he drew was another sketch of Brian—reading, sleeping, lounging on the dock, dressed, naked, wet from a swim.**

**Some of them were just anatomy studies; some were the drawings of a lover. All of them were well done.**

**They were relaxed together and if they didn't bring up the problems that they'd been having, neither were they arguing or bickering. They seemed to be getting the hang of being together again, the easy comradie seemed to be returning and the tension that had been the norm a few weeks ago was—well, no, it wasn't completely gone, but it was significantly less than it had been.**

**Their sex life was doing better, too. After months of headaches and pleas of exhaustion and conflicting schedules, things were pretty much back in sync and both of them appreciated the benefits—the many benefits.**

**The lake, the time alone was a lot of what they needed. They slept late, ate when they were hungry, explored more of the lake than they had seen last year. They would take one of the boats into the small town, get the car and explore the countryside—the small villages and the larger towns. There would be an occasional movie or a stop at a local diner. It was all comfortable and pleasant. There were no comments from people who realized that they were a couple other than a smile that any couple might get. There was one old woman who had called them lovebirds' when she had seen them holding hands in her small antique shop, but a hand squeeze from Justin was enough to diffuse Brian's expected snark.**

**Things were going well for them and they were happy enough to regret having to get back home.**

**Jenn and Molly, Justin's grandparents had all agreed to clear the house for them for those two weeks, letting them have the time alone. They all seemed to know that it was important and though Brian resented others knowing that there were problems, he was grateful for the time they had with no interruptions.**

**The last day, a Friday, had been another good one and they had just taken one last tour around the lake after lunch. It was late afternoon and there were no real plans for the rest of the day. They had thought that they might go to town for dinner, but neither cared much one way of the other. It didn't matter. **

**Justin was in the bathroom when Brian heard the boy's cel ring. It was sitting on the kitchen table and walking over checked the caller ID.**

**Shit.**

**"Yes?"**

**"Jus? I know I promised you I wouldn't call, but I was hoping that we could hook up. I really have to talk to you—I heard some things about Brian—hey, just let me finish—and I think you should know what's going on, OK?"**

**"Justin isn't available right now. You may want to try back later."**

**As he clicked the small cel shut, cutting off the connection he heard the tip of Eric's voice saying, "Br…" and the bathroom door opening. **

**Putting the phone back down where he'd found it he walked through the doorway to the living room. Unaware of the missed call, Justin smiled, put his arms around him, reaching up to kiss his mouth. "Sit on the dock with me?"**

**"Sure."**

**They went down, sitting on the end, barefoot, feet in the water, looking at the stand of seaweed that grew at the end of the dock, the tips of the plants at least four or five feet below the surface of the clear water. They could often see fish swimming around them, looking for food. They were holding hands.**

**Justin seemed happy, content. "This has been good, hasn't it? I mean, we're better than we were, I think."**

**A boat went by, a couple of hundred yards out. They waved to the occupants, as was lake custom when you saw someone going past.**

**Justin continued. "I was thinking, if it's OK with you, I'll just throw a couple of those steaks we got on the grill. We could go into town, but we have to pack and get the house closed up and it would just be easier, if you don't mind."**

**"No, that's fine. It doesn't matter."**

**"My Mom said that she and Molly will be driving up here tomorrow, so it shouldn't be any big deal with the shut down, we can leave all the food and just lock the door, I guess. I told her that we'd leave the house keys and the keys to the big boat at the counter at the marina. We can just leave the boat tied up and they'll take it over when they get here later."**

**"Sounds simple enough." It was obvious to Justin that he was now bored with the subject and now wanted either silence or to change the conversation to something else. Still holding hands, Brian was toying with Justin's wedding ring, the simple gold band. "Have you noticed that after a while you get so used to it that you forget that you're even wearing it?"**

**He nodded. "I did notice that. It's become part of my hand now. If I do take it off for some reason? I miss it, my finger feels weird." **

**Justin had missed his meaning. His mind wasn't going where Brian's was. **

**"When do you take it off?"**

**"You know, when I'm washing my hands, if I'm doing something at school or someplace where I'm using chemicals or something." He looked at Brian's matching ring. "Why? Don't you ever do that?"**

**"I haven't taken it off since you put it there."**

**"…Really?" Justin seemed inordinately pleased by that. He kissed his husband. "I didn't know that."**

**A fish jumped out in the water. They caught the flash of silver, heard the splash, saw the ripples.**

**"Something's probably chasing it."**

**"Probably."**

**They sat quietly together for maybe half an hour, watching the sun go down and the astounding colors the sky and clouds turned, changing moment by moment—blue to pink, orange, gold, violet. The islands turned black, the sky on fire above them, the breeze gone and the air cooling.**

**Releasing his hand, Justin slid his arms around Brian's waist, holding him, pressing himself against the larger body. Brian's arm went around his shoulder. They sat, still watching the last color disappear.**

**"This has been good for us, hasn't it?" Justin voice was quiet, the moment peaceful.**

**"I'm glad you think so."**

**"I love you, Brian."**

**Brian didn't answer, he tightened his grip in Justin's shoulder slightly and kissed the top of his head.**

**Out on the lake the loons were starting to call and another fish jumped.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Second Year**

**August**

**August was hot and humid, the dog days were here and both men were working too hard to even consider thinking about getting away.**

**Justin, in addition to the body of work he had to get ready for the show in San Francisco, had a couple of commissions from his show in New York that were expected to be delivered before Labor Day and Brian was up to his ears at work.**

**The new agency was doing well, better than he had hoped, in fact, but it was non-stop and he was under the gun to produce or destroy the good PR and word of mouth that they'd managed to generate. He was also under increasing pressure from Gardner Vance to either merge or allow a buy out, neither of which he was interested in yet and he knew that Gardner wouldn't take the rejection well. When he let his thoughts wander, he knew that Gardner was becoming concerned about the competition and that made him feel pretty good after the conditions he had been forced out under—damn good, in fact. It was a classic case of getting even instead of getting mad, though he had been pretty damn mad there for a while. He expected problems, possibly in the form of being undercut or blindsided on presentations. This wouldn't go away and he knew that he'd have a fight on his hands soon, probably within the next couple of months if it wasn't diffused and he was doing what he could to be ready for it. He was making sure his clients were happy, making sure his own people were with him—but he knew that it might not be enough and he was privately worried. **

**It was costing him sleep and his appetite was off again. Sometimes he wondered if he was getting an ulcer, but that was too cliché for him to talk to anyone about—an ad man with an ulcer? Please.**

**And the phone call from Eric that he'd intercepted a couple of weeks ago up in Canada. He kept thinking about that. **

**He had no idea what the kid had been talking about, but he had obviously dug up some crap from somewhere and he knew that sooner or later Justin would be made aware of whatever it was.**

**He had also had a message from Father Tom on his answering machine when they'd gotten back, asking him to call, something about his mother and that he would like to talk to Brian about her. No, she wasn't sick or anything like that, he'd just like to have a conversation.**

**He was sitting at his new desk, the one in his new office. Cynthia was in the space next to his, a couple of others around working on this and that and Brian was sitting, staring out the window and thinking.**

**He was thinking about the last few months, all this shit that he and Justin had gone through—the fling with the other kid, the afternoon with Marvin the Tire King, the talk with Joan, starting the new business, Justin's show and the success and fallout from that, the trip to Canada—there had been so much going on and somehow it had all turned into a great big extended drama queen encounter and, well—he was sick of it.**

**He was.**

**He was frigging tired of drama.**

**The thought was a revelation.**

**He wanted calm and he wanted peace and quiet and he wanted to be able to walk into the loft after a day of dealing with pissy clients and ad wars and be able to take off his shoes and his suit, put on a pair of his old jeans and a wife beater, pop the top off a beer, have some dinner with his husband, sit in front of his damn TV and veg. **

**That was what he wanted, honest to God, he did.**

**He wanted to lose the drama.**

**OK, no. He didn't want a house in the suburbs and a dog and a swing set in the back yard—and God knew he'd open his wrists before he would ever buy a van, but…**

**He wanted to be able to relax and go home and not think about where the next grenade was coming from or what would be involved in defusing the thing.**

**He wanted—God help him—he wanted peace and quiet and calm.**

**He did.**

**That's what he wanted…well, at least a butt load more than he'd had for the last fifteen or twenty years, anyway.**

**He didn't want to fly to Buffalo for that meeting next week and he didn't want to deal with whatever was his mother's current problem. He didn't want to have to cope with Justin's friends snarking at him for being Justin's sugar daddy and asking did he have a brother for them. He wasn't in the mood for Debbie's interfering or the muncher's demands. He would scream if Mikey asked him for the time of day and if he saw Ted's face he would be hard pressed not to either smash it or turn around and walk out.**

**He wanted peace and quiet.**

**That was it.**

**He'd come to a realization. He'd had an epiphany. Sitting in his office, looking out the window at the skyline, he'd had a moment of clarity.**

**He wanted to lose the bullshit and have calm in his life.**

**He wanted to be able to live his life and he wanted to do it with Justin. He knew that. He wanted them to be together. He wanted to see his son and make sure that he was well cared for, well provided for and that he had the things he needed. He wanted his friends to be happy and content with their lives, but he didn't want to be responsible for them—they were adults, more or less, and they could take care of themselves. More or less. Barring emergencies.**

**He didn't want to deal with Craig.**

**He didn't want to be in the middle between—well, between anyone anymore.**

**He wanted Gardner to leave him alone.**

**He wanted to, he wanted to…**

**He wanted to cancel this afternoon's meetings and talk to Justin. **

**But first: **

**He punched the number in the phone, waited a few seconds. "Good morning, Vanguard. May I help you?"**

**"Gardner Vance."**

**"I'll connect you."**

**"Gardner Vance's office. May I help you?"**

**"I'd like to speak to him."**

**"Mr. Vance is in a meeting. May I take a message?"**

**"This is Brian Kinney. Tell him I'd like to speak to him."**

**"Oh—Just a moment, please, Mr. Kinney."**

**In seconds he picked up. "Brian, good Lord, I was just thinking about you. I hear BK and Company is causing some ripples with that new campaign you've come up with for Mikasa china—I heard rumors you'll be up for a couple of Clio's for that next time around."**

**"That's what I hear, too, Gardner. How are things at your end?" He knew damn well that Vanguard was feeling his loss. They had lost a few big clients and were having trouble signing more of the caliber that had left.**

**"We're well, thank you, very well, in fact." Brian knew better. "So, to what do I owe the honor of this call?"**

**"I thought that you and I might get together and have a talk—informally, of course."**

**"Of course. That would be lovely. When is convenient for you, Brian?"**

**Make his sweat. "Next week would be good for me. The end of the week, if that's alright with you. I'm sure you're as busy as I am." Sure he was.**

**"Quite, indeed we are. Let me see…would Wednesday be good?"**

**"…To be honest, Thursday would be better." Never take the first offer.**

**"Fine. Do you still like O'Malley's steaks? Say at seven? We can catch up with what we've been doing. My treat."**

**"That sounds good. I'll see you there."**

**"Shall we bring the spouses or not?"**

**"Why not bring them—I'll run this by Justin and see if he's free then."**

**"Perfect, just call my girl and let her know. I'll look forward to it, Brian."**

**"So will I, Gardner." They broke the connection.**

**Brian wanted to talk to Justin.**

**Right now.**

**"Cynthia? I'm leaving early. Deal with it."**

**"…What about the presentation?"**

**"You do it."**

**"But…"**

**He drove back to the loft. Justin would probably be there working on one of his paintings, at least that's where he usually could be found at ten thirty on a Tuesday morning. He could have called to make sure, he could have just done that, but he liked the idea of surprising the kid.**

**Kid—shit, he wasn't a kid. Not any more.**

**He was a married man; he had a good start on the career of his choice, which promised to generate an acceptable income. He had survived homophobia, virtual abandonment by his father and marriage to Brian Kinney. He wasn't a kid. He may not quite be twenty years old yet, but he wasn't a kid.**

**When Brian was his age he was a sophomore at Penn, Dean's list and all state in soccer. He was supporting himself with scholarships and student loans and part time jobs. He had just finished paying off the damn loans last year; in fact, just about the same time he started paying tuition to PIFA. He had a quick fantasy that as soon as that ended he'd start paying for Gus, too. It would be never ending forever. There would never be a time in his life when he wasn't writing checks to some fucking school.**

**There wasn't much traffic at that time of the morning and he got home quickly. The street was almost empty and he had no trouble parking. He took the stairs two at a time and slid the unlocked door open, ready for the look of surprise on Justin's face and wanting that smile.**

**He got the look of surprise, anyway.**

**Justin was standing facing the door; Eric had his back turned, facing Justin. Obviously they were in the middle of a fairly intense conversation. Hearing the door and seeing the look on Justin's face, Eric turned around, his eyes growing larger when he saw who was there.**

**"Fuck off."**

**"I was talking with Jus…"**

**"Fuck off." Brian and Justin were looking at one another, Eric now reduced to an afterthought.**

**"Justin…"**

**"You'd better go."**

**"I'll tell you the rest later."**

**"No, don't bother."**

**"He's going to screw you over again, you know that. I told you what he…Fine. Just…whatever, fine." He looked close to tears and Brian wondered if he practiced that expression in the mirror. "Call me. You can call me any time, day or night."**

**Justin didn't say anything, just gave him a steady look, dismissing him.**

**Seeing that it was pointless to try to do more, at least for now, Eric shook his head, gave the other two a parting glare and left, leaving the door open.**

**Justin just looked at Brian, maybe he was wondering of whatever the hell Eric was telling him was true. It didn't matter; maybe what he was saying was true. I didn't care. It wasn't important, whatever it was. **

**"You're home early." He'd taken a couple of steps closer to Brian, was standing right in front of him.**

**"I've been thinking."**

**"What about?" He crossed his arms in front of hi chest, waiting to see what the hell his husband had on his mind this time.**

**"I think we need to slow down a little. I think I do, anyway."**

**He gave Brian one of his looks, one of his –uh-huh—what's the punch line' looks. "What brought this on?"**

**"I've just been thinking. The last year, well, this year anyway, it's hasn't been too good for you and me. I think we ought to think about that. Maybe we could do something about it."**

**He looked like he was trying to process what was just said and not having an easy time of it. OK, he knew—this was Brian Kinney, Alpha, Type A extraordinaire and he was suggesting they get the proverbial hammock, kick off their shoes and hang out.**

**"Did something happen today?" Like maybe he'd dropped acid and had decided to join a commune? Grow his carefully razor-cut hair and wear beads—never a good look except for maybe Jim Morrison and we all know how he turned out.**

**"I guess I just had a moment of insight." Brian smiled at him, but Justin got that he was serious. He was still wondering what the hell had happened. "I thought that I might take Gardner up on his merger offer and take things a little slower."**

**"You? Brian, you live for work. How many times have you told me that you ARE business? You like signing new clients more than you like sex." He reconsidered. "Well, maybe."**

**"That's my point. Shit, I'm not saying that I want to take off for nude volleyball in the woods or any of that shit, but I don't want to work eighteen hours a day six days a week for the rest of my life. "**

**Justin was still trying to digest whatever he was saying. "You want to work part time?" Brian could see the fear in his eyes at what that would mean for him. He would be around more, hanging around the loft, getting bored, getting ideas about—whatever floated through his brain on a given day and God knew, that could be almost anything.**

**"I was thinking of cutting down to maybe fifty or sixty hours a week and two day weekends." He reconsidered. "Well, mostly two day weekends."**

**Justin looked stunned, like he wanted to make sure he'd heard Brian right. "Are you sure? This would mean that…" Dear God, let him not be serious. Let him forget about this by breakfast.**

**"We'd have more time, yes, I know."**

**"You could come to the show in California." That would be good. They would have fun there, it might even be a good idea—at least this part of it. He stopped. "But what about the money? You said that you needed to put in the hours to make ends meet until you could afford to hire more staff."**

**"That's why I'd consider a merger, you twat." Like he was talking to an idiot. "Vanguard has everything in place for all the shit work."**

**Justin shifted his weight to one hip. Brian had his attention. "And you've talked to Vance about this?"**

**"We're having dinner next week. He's already drooling." This was accompanied by the trademark smirk, something that had always secretly annoyed Justin—not that he had ever admitted that to anyone, but Brian knew. He could tell by the look on his face whenever he used it. In fact, he'd made an effort to cut back on it but lifelong habits are hard to break.**

**"And you and Vance can work together after what happened with Stockwell?"**

**"We could always work together. We just know better than to trust each other. It'll be like it was before. I'll be a partner—senior partner—he'll try to screw me and I'll watch my ass."**

**Justin gave him that look again, the one where he's wondering where the real Asshole Brian went and where did Pod Brian appear from—and how long would he be staying.**

**Then gave Brian a long look, said, "Huh." shook his head and went back to his canvas. It was pretty obvious that he thought this, too, would pass. After a couple of minutes he came up to where his husband was changing in the bedroom. "You're not going Lez on me, are you?"**

**"What the fuck are you talking about?"**

**"Cutting back at work, spending more time together, not caring that Eric was here trying to mess us up—what's crawled up your butt?"**

**"I want to smell the roses."**

**He blinked once and took a beat. "Jesus. You are scaring the Hell out of me."**

**"Get used to it. It's the new me."**


	9. Chapter 9

**Second Year**

**September**

**"You're absolutely sure that you're satisfied with the contract as it now stands, then, are you?"**

**"Yes, I am, thank you. I think what we have is fair. Do you have any second thoughts?"**

**"None, no. I think this will be good for everyone involved."**

**"Good. As soon as the lawyers have a chance to have a final look at this I think we should tell the combined staffs at a meeting, say next week, and let them know that they will all now be working for BK/Vanguard, Inc, as of next month."**

**"Yes, I quite agree. Your old office is waiting for you, Brian. We never did find anyone to fill it after you left, you know."**

**"I know." It was stated matter of factly. He was the top dog on the pile and they both knew it. He was now an equal partner to Vance, his name—well, his initials—were on the door and he had it in writing that he could pick and choose what accounts he would be handling. No more chains of steak houses, if he could help it. He would, they had agreed, spend the majority of his time of the high-end accounts, the high profile stuff, the stuff he enjoyed and was good at.**

**Vance knew his worth, he knew both their worth, when you came down to it, and he knew where the most money and prestige was to be had.**

**With Brian back on board, despite what it had cost him in terms of both money and face, he knew they would in a matter of a very few years, if not sooner, be in a position to challenge the really big firms, the ones in New York and on the West Coast. Yes, he'd had to make some concessions regarding hours and wages. He had agreed to take on all of Brian's employees at inflated salaries and full benefits, but he had to admit that Kinney had managed to sign the cream of the local crop when he'd opened his doors earlier in the year and they should prove worth the investment in the long run.**

**This should work out well.**

**The merger went through quickly. The two staffs started working together easily and Brian was happy to be able to have the back up of the large agency behind him and not have to take all the heat when ever anything didn't go as planned. He had more time now to relax, as he had wanted. He had insisted that he would rather not work more than sixty hours in a given week, barring emergencies, and he quickly felt the difference both physically and mentally.**

**OK, there were times when he would be unable to sleep because of some glitch or screw up or question about some account and Justin would get up to find that he'd been on his computer for the last five hours working things out before going to work for the day and it was a rare weekend that they didn't get at least one call from Vance about something, but they would usually be resolved in less than an hour and he usually didn't have to go into the office to deal with whatever the problem was.**

**He was bringing new accounts, too, big one, ones that any agency would give its eyeteeth for just for the prestige and the visibility involved.**

**They had the North American Gucci account now, and BASF. They were talking to Tyco toys and Stouffers foods. Big accounts, huge amounts of money and they were being courted by the big agencies on the coasts.**

**It was heady stuff and Justin stood back and watched it happen knowing that something would have to give sooner or later.**

**Brian couldn't both step back and build the company that now had his name, OK, his initials, on the damn letterhead.**

**It wasn't possible to do both unless you were a pushme-pullyou and could alter the time space continuum and even Brian wouldn't be able to pull that off.**

**Whether he was willing to admit it or not, Brian would have to up some of his free hours or cut his interest in the agency. There was no real choice. It wasn't possible to have it both ways.**

**The only one who didn't seem to know it was Brian.**

**He still got up every morning, dressed impeccably in Armani or some such, would go to the office, fight the fight all day and then insist that he had to be gone in time to have dinner with his partner. He would make a point of spending about two hours with Justin eating or showering or simply watching the news then he would remember something that had to be cleaned up before the morning meeting or something and then he'd spend the next three or four or five hours on the computer or on the phone.**

**He'd make a show of getting that done, they'd go to bed, usually make love, Justin would fall asleep. Around two or three in the morning he might wake up—he didn't every night—and find that he was alone in bed. Looking through the slats in the bedroom wall, through the glass panels, he'd see the desk lamp on and the glow from the monitor. Brian would work for another couple pf ours, crawl back to bed, sleep til the alarm woke him around seven and start all over again.**

**Sure, he insisted that he'd cut way back, but the truth was that he was working just as hard. The black shadows were still under his eyes, darker than ever and he was still having trouble keeping his weight up.**

**Nothing had really changed.**

**Justin would spend his days painting. He also took charge of the house and the food and the domestic side of things. It wasn't so much that he wanted to or was particularly good at it—though his cooking outstripped Brian's even on his worst days—it was just that he knew Brian was doing as much as he could and the shit work like the grocery shopping and the laundry weren't on his radar.**

**Justin was getting his own work done, despite his worry about Brian. He didn't see his friends as much as he would have liked and he didn't get out of the loft as often as he would have liked and there were too many days and nights when he didn't see Brian all that much, not when they could actually exchange full sentences, anyway, but he was doing the best he could.**

**The third weekend he borrowed the girl's station wagon, drove to New York and delivered the commissioned pieces. He knew tat it wasn't the really cool way to do it—they probably should have been all crated and shipped and all, but he was excited and wanted to see the looks on the people's faces when they saw them for the first time. He was happy with how they had both turned out and so he decided, what the fuck', picked up the phone, made a couple of calls and did the deed.**

**He had hoped that Brian would be able to help him with the drive, that they could spent a couple of days without phones or computers, but Brian had to make an emergency trip to Albuquerque and begged off, promising to make it up to him later.**

**Sure, right, whatever.**

**When he got back, the clients having loved the finished works and treating him to dinner and promising to recommend him to their friends, he found the loft empty on a Sunday afternoon. No note and no clue as to where he might have gone anywhere. Mentally shaking his head, he took the car over to Lindsay and Mel's, hoping they could give him a ride home. They let him in the front door, asking him for all the details, kissing him, telling him how proud they were and finally pulling him to the back door, fingers to lips to be quiet and pointed the big tree.**

**Brian was taking advantage of a warm late summer day, blanket on the ground, Gus pressed against him and a pile of Dr. Seuss beside them. Brian was reading what looked like Horton Hears a Who and listening to his son's comments and questions, answering them seriously and fully—or as fully as one can answer a question about a Who.**

**"They've been out there for an hour."**

**Justin smiled at the image. The Big Bad sitting reading a children's story with a plate of sliced apples and a couple of juice boxes to make it all go down easy.**

**"You should have seen the game of tag we had before. It was a classic."**

**Brian had said that he wanted to slow down. This was the sort of thing he'd meant. Sure, none of his friends would have believed it, but it was. In his own convoluted way, this was what he'd wanted.**

**"Think he'll mind if I join them?"**

**"Take out a plate of cookies and you'll be a hero."**

**Plate and sketchbook in hand, Justin walked out two minutes later. He was welcomed, exclaimed over, kissed and hugged by both Kinney men, declining the offer to read one of the books—he'd always been fond of Mazie, himself, and drawing instead. He managed to capture the two of them, Brian and Gus, father and son, sharing the day, enjoying one another, looking so much alike that it hurt to see them.**

**The sketches were good one and he knew that they would translate into good paintings later, maybe Christmas presents for the girls and Brian. They'd like that.**

**In another half hour Gus was asleep on the blanket, now doubled over onto him against any possible chill.**

**"How did it go in New York?"**

**"It went well, they liked them. They said I might get some more commissions from them and their friends." A pause. "I wish you could have come."**

**"Next time."**

**They rested together, Justin leaning against Brian, just enjoying the day and being together. They held hands.**

**"You look tired, did you work all night again?"**

**"I'm cutting back, Justin, you know that."**

**"Bullshit. You're just at the office fewer hours, you're working just as hard as you ever were."**

**"That's not true. Gardner wanted me to go to Salt Lake City after I finished in Albuquerque and I refused. He's there now. I came back here." He actually seemed to think that was a big concession. Well, Vance probably did, anyway.**

**Meanwhile, he was obviously exhausted and Justin could feel the bones of his shoulders stabbing him. He was still losing weight. Last year Justin's grandfather had talked to him, called him on the carpet, really, about slowing down, how if he didn't he'd kill himself and how he didn't want to have to deal with Justin if he was left a widower at the age of twenty-one or so. Brian had seemed to listen, seemed to take it to heart for a while, but that was almost a year ago and he was, well, he was Brian. He needed to be the best, needed to keep proving himself and never believing that he had won, if he'd just let himself stand back and take a look.**

**"I think I'm almost ready for the show in San Francisco next month. You're still coming with me, aren't you?"**

**Brian took too long to answer.**

**"Shit, Brian…you promised that you'd be there."**

**"I know. I will be there. I'm just not sure if I can spend the whole time we were planning on originally. I'll just fly in the day of the show and then we'll have the rest of the weekend together and…"**

**"Fuck you. You said you'd help me with the set up and all of that crap."**

**"The gallery has people to help you, you don't need me there for that, come on."**

**"I don't need you for the set up, I need you to just fucking be there for me. You're my husband, Damnit, you're supposed to be there for me."**

**"I said that I would. I'll just be there two days later than we'd planned. Get the fuck over it."**

**"Jesus, Brian—you gave me this big fucking song and dance about how you wanted to chill out, take time, enjoy yourself, spend time with me and all that shit—you even said you wanted to smell the roses and you're pulling your same old shit again. Goddamnit."**

**Christ, another princess moment. "You know that Vance and I are still getting the merger working smoothly and you know as well as I do that we have more damage control to deal with after the Stockwell thing—get off my fucking back about this."**

**"Screw you. You told me that you'd be there."**

**"I told you that I'd do my best to be there. I will be there, just not on your fucking schedule. I have things I have to do and you know that."**

**"And we know the Goddamned world revolves around you."**

**His answer was one of Brian's better glares, the one he used when he was really pissed. They were at a stalemate for a couple of minutes until the back screen door slammed and Lindsay came out, unaware of the argument. "Are you two staying for dinner? Michael and Ben are coming over and Debbie just said that she and Vic can make it, too."**

**Forcing a smile before Brian could beg off, Justin said, "Sure, sounds great, thanks." Trapped, more or less, Brian kept his mouth shut.**

**"...Are you two alright?"**

**"We're fine." Same big innocent smile. She decided not to go there.**

**Two hours later the family were seated around the muncher's dining room table, the now awake again Gus in his high chair next to Brian, as he'd insisted. The talk was general and it was pleasant enough. Ben and Michael told everyone about how Hunter was at the cabin a friend of Ben's owned in the Pocono's and was having a good time being a normal kid, he was a junior in high school now and was passing every class. His mother had fallen off the map, to no one's surprise. Vic looked like he was doing alright, he was funny and happy. He looked at Brian and Justin, Ben and Michael and said something about how he was glad to see his two spiritual sons happily married and settled down. Sure, it was a joke, but they all knew he was serious. **

**Brian was quieter than usual during the meal and the ones who looked closely saw that he was pale and obviously exhausted. He didn't eat much, but he never was a big eater. No one said anything, not wanting any unpleasantness on such a nice night. **

**At one point when they were in the kitchen together carrying plates to the sink, Emmett did lean over and whisper, "Honey, are you alright?" Brian gave a brief nod and that was that, though Em noticed that he put his hand on the edge of the counter to steady himself.**

**They asked Justin about his new pieces and his new show and he pulled out some snaps he'd brought because he knew they'd ask. They were good and Justin was proud of the reactions his things were getting. Finally Brian stood up, said it had been a long day with the flight and he was going to head home.**

**He and Justin seemed to have patched up whatever they'd been arguing about earlier and Linds was glad to see it. They'd both been trying so hard.**

**The two men said good night to everyone, Brian kissed Gus and they went out to the jeep.**

**Within a minute Justin ran back inside, panicked.**

**"Brian passed out."**

**Rushing to help, they found him lying on the sidewalk by the car, unconscious.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Second Year**

**October**

**"NOW will you fucking slow down?"**

**Brian was lying on the big platform bed, back at the loft after being examined and released at Pitt University Hospital. He was diagnosed with acute exhaustion and some vitamin deficiencies caused by his poor and sporadic eating habits. He had been given prescriptions for vitamins and sleeping pills. The doctor had offered tranquilizers, too, but Brian had curtly refused to consider them, insisting that he was fine, thank you.**

**They'd been back home for a couple of hours, the family had left after making sure that he was well cared for and there were promises of follow up visits the next day along with likely pots of soup from Deb and Vic.**

**Brian was in mid ream from Justin. They had gone through how frightened Justin had been, how he had to slow down, how selfish Brian was behaving, how his priorities were screwed up, how he was about to leave his son fatherless, and had now moved on to if he didn't cut the shit Justin would be moving to his mother's and he could just fucking kill himself in peace, since that was obviously where he was headed.**

**Damnit.**

**Brian had a headache, he was tried and he really just wanted to go to sleep. He had a ten o'clock meeting in the morning and he still had some prep work to do for it and when he was foolish enough to mention it—proof of the level of his fatigue—Justin had blown another gasket.**

**"Goddamnit, Brian. You're not even making an effort here. You fucking passed out flat on the Goddamned sidewalk for shit's sake." **

**There was no reaction other than annoyance.**

**He tried another tact, maybe this would work—unlikely, but it was worth a shot. "When Debbie passed out at the diner you were the one who told her that she could take a couple of days off, in fact you insisted, remember? You were the one who dropped by to make sure she wasn't going to show up for her shift. You told her that it wasn't worth getting sick over—any of this sounding familiar?"**

**Long suffering patience was wearing thin. "You're not actually equating my having to pitch Dell Computers in the morning with Deb working the breakfast shift, are you?"**

**Full drama queen mode.**

**"It's the same fucking thing. It's about commitment and believing that you're indispensable and that no one can do the fucking job as well as you can."**

**"No one there can do the fucking job as well as I can."**

**"Bullshit, Brian. Vance can do it and you fucking know it."**

**"Vance is in London dealing with one of his ex-wives."**

**"Then reschedule the damn meeting. The doctor said you should have complete bed rest for at least three days."**

**"I can't reschedule the damn meeting. The CEO is here from California specifically for this. It goes on tomorrow at ten. Fucking deal with it."**

**"Goddamn it, Brian…" He was about ready to take a walk. Fine. Shit.**

**"Look…I'll take the meeting, take them to lunch and come home. I'll even tell Cynthia that I won't be in for a couple of days. Will that shut you up?"**

**"You are so not getting this, are you, asshole? You're my husband. I fucking love you and you're going to fucking kill yourself if you don't stop." He shook his head, knowing it was doing a complete flyby. "What the Hell will it take to get through to you? The first heart attack? Jesus, Brian."**

**"I told you, I have to deal with the pitch tomorrow and when I'm done with that I'll come home. Now leave me the fuck alone so I can get some sleep." He turned over, the conversation over.**

**Knowing that further argument was useless, Justin went down to the living room, trying to decide what the Hell to do next. He sat for about twenty minutes then after checking to make sure that Brian was asleep, took the phone up to the roof for complete privacy.**

**"Mrs. Kinney? This is Justin." She'd know who he was, whether she acknowledged him or not. "I was hoping that I could speak with you, it's important."**

**"I'm sure that whatever you may have to say to me about my son couldn't be anything I would want to hear. If you'll excuse me, it's quite late." She was going to hang up but…**

**"Mrs. Kinney, please. I have to talk to you about him—could I come over tomorrow? Please?"**

**"Is he alright?"**

**"That's what I want to talk to you about. Please, Mrs. Kinney. It's Important."**

**An annoyed silence then, "…Come at ten."**

**"I'll be there, thank you. I'll be there."**

**Brian dragged himself out of bed at seven, as usual, refusing to consider going in late. He had the coffee and eggs Justin made him, picked at a piece of toast and left, still annoyed and obviously wanting nothing more than to go back to bed.**

**At nine thirty Justin took his car, the small used one he'd allowed Brian to get him a year or so ago, and made his way out to the suburbs. He'd only been to Brian's house—OK, his parent's house—once before and it amazed him to think that he'd grown up there. It looked like a normal house on the outside. It sat on a normal street; the houses were all similar and were probably about half the size of the place he'd lived in with his own parents. He was sure there were no private pools on the street. Every house on his old block had one.**

**There was a statue of Mary on the front lawn.**

**The place was neat, clean, just as he would expect, and it seemed so—normal. **

**Just to look at it you would never suspect that the people who lived there beat their kids and hated each other and were alcoholics.**

**Parking in the driveway, careful not to block Joan's car—considerate, like he had been raised, he walked up to the door, rang the bell.**

**She answered quickly, expecting him.**

**She showed him to the living room he'd sat in a year ago and saw no real differences between then and now. She was still rigid, unyielding. The house was still cold and formal with nothing out of place. She had a glass of wine beside her, he declined her offer. He had trouble not staring at a heinous painting on the far wall, one of those starving artist' creations that could be bought at a Marriott Hotel near you on a given Sunday.**

**"What is the problem with Brian this time?" She sounded like she'd been around this block a few too many times than she wanted to.**

**Taken aback more than he probably should have been by her tone and attitude Justin tried to recover but she made him feel like a five year old. "He's working himself so hard that he's becoming sick. He passed out yesterday and he refuses to slow down…and he's losing weight, too. I'm getting, well, I'm worried about him."**

**She looked at him as if he were telling her that his dog had messed her lawn.**

**"Brian is an adult. What on earth do you expect me to do about it?" She sipped her wine; it was a very big sip. "You're his husband', aren't you? I would think at he'd listen to you before he'd listen to me."**

**"The doctor said that if he doesn't slow down he'd have a heart attack."**

**"And did Brian hear the doctor say this?" Justin nodded. "Then he should be able to deal with it. He has always been intelligent, if nothing else. I'm sure that he'll make some sort of decision about it. He usually does, sooner or later." She was ready to dismiss him. "Was there anything else?"**

**"Mrs. Kinney, I just wish that you…"**

**She stared daggers at him, each one hitting dead on. "You wish what, young man? That perhaps I could drive over and have a talk with him? If you'll recall that last time I did that I arrived at an awkward moment for all involved."**

**He was going to say he wished she could let him know that she loved him, but he knew that wouldn't happen and in all likelihood neither she nor Brian would have the slightest clue about how to even begin to go there. **

**It was pointless and he was wasting her time as well as his. Besides, he had a painting to finish. They all had to be crated by Monday and shipped by Tuesday. He had to go.**

**He stood up. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, Mrs. Kinney."**

**He was almost to the door when she spoke. "You're quite worried about him, aren't you?"**

**He nodded.**

**"I suppose that in your way, you care for him, don't you? You wouldn't have come all this way if you weren't concerned."**

**"Brian can't stop proving he's the best and he's…he's working so hard." He paused. That wasn't her question. "Yes, I care about him very much."**

**"He must be quite good at what he does, isn't he? He makes all that money and I assume that he supports the two of you very well, from what I've seen."**

**"Mrs. Kinney, please. Could you try to talk to him?"**

**He thought that he'd gotten through to her, that she would agree to help. Justin was convinced that the shock value, if nothing else, of having Joan Kinney show up at his office or somewhere and tell him to take it easy might be enough to wake him up, but he was just jerking himself off to think she'd do anything. After all, he'd heard the stories of how she would stand by while Brian was being beaten, that afterwards she's go to church and light candles while her son was bleeding.**

**She made Brian seem like an open book—no one would get through her. He was closing the door behind him when he glanced in before it shut completely. She was filling the wine glass again.**

**Around three that afternoon, after the pitch and the lunch, when Brian had promised that he would be on his way home and was, instead, in his office going over some copy he'd seen and hated, Cynthia buzzed to say that there was a call for him, someone named Tom who said they were friends. Would he take the call?**

**Who the fuck was Tom?**

**Sure, whatever. He could always hang up.**

**"Yes?"**

**"Brian? I'm sorry to interrupt you at work, but I've had a call from a friend of yours who asked me to have a word with you if it's alright."**

**"What is this about?"**

**"Well, this is a little awkward, but your mother called me and…"**

**"My mother? Joanie? Who is this—oh, fuck me. Father Tom. Of course, the dynamic duo."**

**"Brian, she's concerned about you. Would it be alright if I came over to talk wit you? We could meet wherever you'd like. I can come to your office or your home, you could come to me—whatever is easiest for you. You decide, we'll meet wherever you'd like."**

**Jesus H. Fucking Christ. **

**"Look, Rev, this isn't going to happen and how the fuck did Joan come to the conclusion that I needed your help? Is my faggot soul rotting in Hell again? Shit, I thought that was where she wanted me."**

**"I only know that our friends and your family are concerned. Would you agree to meet me? I could come to your home his evening if you don't mind."**

**"As a matter of fact I do mind, Rev. In fact, I mind very much. Now if you'll excuse me, this is a working day."**

**"Brian, please—I would like to talk with you. I'll call you this evening, is that alright? I may be able to help you put things into perspective."**

**"I doubt it, Rev, but I tell you what—you light a couple of candles for me and we'll call it square." He cut the connection, annoyed.**

**Fucking Twat. Fucking Justin. He bent back to his desk, pissed. When Cynthia stuck her head in and asked what would be a good day to reschedule the dinner meeting he was supposed to go to he told her, with little finesse, that he'd go to the damn dinner and now leave him the fuck alone. When she said she'd thought that he wanted to leave early he told her that he'd changed his mind.**

**At ten that night Brian pulled the loft door open. He was planning on getting home early, like he had told Justin the night before, but he was pissed knowing that he was being watched.**

**They cared about him—how nice, how lez.**

**He was a grown up, he was fine and he didn't need minders, Damnit.**

**"Brian?" The voice came from the bedroom. "There's food if you're hungry."**

**No rants about where he'd been? No tantrums? No scenes?**

**Damn.**

**And—he wasn't standing by the door, ready to take his coat and kiss him and shove a plate of warmed over something in front of him?**

**This wasn't normal. Then he saw the suitcase packed and ready to go, sitting next to the door, considerately placed out of the way so no one would trip over it. That was Justin for you, always thoughtful.**

**"You going somewhere?"**

**Justin gave him a look like he was a complete asshole in addition to being a total idiot. "San Francisco, remember?"**

**Fuckfuckfuck.**

**"You forgot? You fucking forgot that I was leaving in the morning? Brian—Goddamnit." He started back up to the bedroom, pausing on the top step. "The whole fucking world isn't about you, Brian. You promised me that you'd come to California with me and then you downgraded to telling me that you'd meet me there in a couple of days. You know how important this is to me and now you can't even remember when I'm flying across the Goddamned country." He shook his head. "I assume you forgot to get a ticket for yourself, right?"**

**"I'll do it now." He'd go on line. It would take ten minutes.**

**"Just—fuck it, Brian. Don't bother."**

**Shit. Brian knew he'd blown it, and not in a positive, life affirming way. He had promised Justin that he'd go, but Damnit—Vance was in Europe and these were big contracts on the line.**

**It had been a long day, he was tired. He thought about and dismissed the idea of a shower. The morning would be soon enough. Turning off the lights he went up to where Justin was on his own side of the bed, turned away and likely to stay that way.**

**There was no point, nothing to be gained by trying to placate Justin now, he was simply too angry to listen and Brian was too tired to deal with another quick argument right now. Screw it; it could wait til morning along with the shower.**

**He opened his eyes. Morning. The loft was quiet, Justin not beside him. Stretching, he got up. He could tell by the absolute silence that no one was there. He was alone. Shit—what time was it?**

**Ten forty-five.**

**Fuck and fuck again.**

**He looked; the bag by the door was gone. A quick search found no note, nothing.**

**And he was late for work. Rushing, he made it in time for his eleven thirty. He didn't hear from Justin that day and when he called the hotel he was forced to leave a message. Justin's cel was off. The same thing happened the next day when he tried, several times, to get a hold of the boy.**

**The next night, alone in the loft, most of the lights off and thinking hat he needed to diffuse this while he could, he made a decision.**

**He picked up the phone, dialing direct. **

**A sleepy voice picked up. "…Hello?"**

**"Cynthia? Brian. I'm not going to make it in tomorrow. Reschedule whatever I have on and handle whatever needs handling. Next, call and get me a ticket to San Francisco for mid afternoon, late afternoon if that's all they have. I'll be back Monday. The return can be for Sunday night."**

**"OK…right." The phone clicked down, he hoped she remembered what he had said.**

**At one thirty the next day he was waiting at the gate, ready to board, just sitting, working on his laptop when his phone rang. He answered as he heard the announcement for business class to board.**

**"Yes?"**

**"Brian? I'm glad I caught you. I just got off the phone with Mr. Vance. He was supposed to get back tonight but there's some kind of delay. He says that you have to be here for the wrap up with Dell in the morning."**

**"Fuck that."**

**"He said that if you think going to—let me get this right—Your Goddamn wife's opening is more important, you can bloody well stay there and hope the show's a sell out because if you cost the company the signing he'll make sure that the problems you had after the Stockwell debacle will look like a walk in the park.'" And he would, too.**

**"Can Pendleton reschedule?" He was the head of Dell.**

**"I called. He's leaving for Japan directly from the signing tomorrow. He wants the contracts done before he goes. He won't change his plans."**

**Ah, shit. And with an account this size a partner would have to be there. There was no choice. Last call for business class. One of the attendants was looking at him.**

**"Brian?"**

**"I'll be there."**

**"Do you ant me to reschedule your flight?"**

**"...Sure."**

**When he walked into the opening he was two hours late and he still hadn't been able to get a hold of Justin. He was hoping that the surprise would help to smooth things over. He'd even, God help him, arranged for a chic flower arrangement to de delivered to the gallery. He saw the youngster standing with his back to the main room, talking to a man who looked like a gallery owner. Brian took a moment to just look. The dark blue cashmere turtleneck set off his coloring and he was, beyond doubt, a beautiful young man. **

**There were people still hanging around and a number of the paintings had sold stickers on them. The show had gone well.**

**Brian smiled to himself. He admitted it, at least to himself, he loved the twat. Going over he put his hands on both or Justin's shoulders, squeezing gently.**

**"Hey."**

**Justin turned, didn't look all that happy. "You showed up."**

**"I told you I would."**

**"Uh-huh."**

**"Is this yours?" The man Justin had been talking to indicated Brian with a smile**

**"I'm sorry, Adrian. This is Brian Kinney, Brian, this is Adrian Smith, he owns the gallery."**

**"So you're the husband I've heard so much about."**

**Justin's face was carefully blank. "This week."**


	11. Chapter 11

**Second Year**

**November**

**The end of the weekend in San Francisco was strained, at best. The two of them tried to pretend that things were moving along and that Brian hadn't disappointed Justin by showing up late. Justin acted as though he'd been pleasantly surprised, that he completely understood that Brian had to change his flight at the last minute and that he wasn't angry that his second big night had been back burnered again by his husband. They had spent the rest of the night back at the hotel making love, but the spark, the lightning didn't strike and if both of them noticed, neither one said anything. Justin truly was excited that over half of his paintings had sold and he had given out his new business cards to any number of people, all of whom promised to call about him doing commissions. OK, he knew that most of them wouldn't, but it was still great to hear and he was flattered.**

**Brian tried that weekend. He did. He was proud of Justin, proud f his work and the reactions the paintings received. He was impressed by the way Justin handled himself with the opening crowd, the invited guests and the critics. He charmed them all and Brian wasn't surprised at all. The next couple of days they went and did whatever Justin wanted, they ate whatever he wanted and they made love at Justin's suggestion. Brian even let him top a couple of times and that, more than anything, let Justin know that Brian really was sorry.**

**They were both trying.**

**They really were, but they weren't there, yet, not after the last few months.**

**The flight back home was quiet. They made the obligatory trip to the bathroom to fuck, but it was really just going through the motions.**

**Brian had waited until they were driving back to the loft to spring his surprise, hoping that it might help.**

**"I was thinking." He had a look on his face, that of a cat and a canary.**

**"Oh?" Justin was watching the traffic go by.**

**"I think it would be a good idea to move."**

**Justin turned and gave him a hard look. "What the fuck are you talking about?"**

**"I think we should sell the loft and get a place that's better designed for the two of us. Haven't you ever thought about it?"**

**"…The loft is your home, you love it…"**

**They pulled into the usual parking space. "Exactly. It's mine. Well, technically it's both of ours, but it was my turf first and that's sort of hung on. Besides, it's not really big enough for you to work in."**

**"I have the studio." He was talking about the studio space he shared with a couple of PIFA students. It was cramped, poorly lit, badly heated and way the Hell over on the campus. It had worked when he was going to school but now it was impractical and they both knew it.**

**"How would you feel about asking your mother to start looking for a place for us? One big enough for you to paint in and Gus should have a room. I could use an office—you know, a real house."**

**They were back in the loft, dumping their bags up in the bedroom. Justin hadn't said anything, he was still digesting.**

**"Do you think this is a good time for us to be thinking about something like that?"**

**They both knew what he meant. "…I think it might be a good idea." He had that look on his face, the scared one, the one he'd had after he'd ruined the work Justin and Michael had done on Rage and he knew that he'd gone too far. "You don't agree?"**

**"I'd love it, I'm just not sure that this is the best time. It's sort of, you know, I'm not sure, that's all."**

**"I thought you might enjoy it."**

**He exhaled. Shit. They'd been dancing around one another for months now and Justin was tired of it. For better or worse, they had always been honest, if nothing else. "I would, but Brian—shit—this is just a fucking band aid to take our attention off everything else. You know that as well as I do."**

**Brian gave a sort of an I know but I'm trying' gesture that was somewhere between a shrug and a plea.**

**Justin knew that was cruel, but they had to get it into the open. He continued, trying to not cause hurt. "I'd love a house, and I'd love to have our house, wake up in our bedroom and eat in our kitchen and all of that. Someday we'll do that, but not as a, a change of subject so we're not dealing with what's really going on."**

**Brian seemed defeated, deflated. He crossed up to the bedroom. Justin heard the bathroom door close and a couple of minutes later the shower started. He left Brian alone, remembering something that he'd been told once, a long time ago.**

**Brian had told him, when Justin had asked how he had stood it when he was a kid, when he was beaten. He had asked how he had stayed in the house, knowing that his parents were just down the hall. Brian had told him that after he was around nine he never let them see him cry, no matter how much it hurt, he never would let them know that they had gotten to him, that they had caused him pain.**

**How?**

**He would go into the bathroom and take a shower—sometimes he wouldn't even get in the water, he'd just turn it on and let it run, fell blast. He knew they couldn't hear him over the water. If it were very bad he'd turn on the water in the sink, too. They never found out.**

**But Justin knew.**

**Almost forty-five minutes later Brian came out, toweling his hair dry.**

**"I ordered Chinese, is that OK?"**

**"That's great."**

**"It should be here any minute."**

**"Good."**

**"…I was thinking, maybe that's a good idea, buying a house."**

**Brian looked at him with mild interest, the way he would look at a new intern he had to sign off on. "You said this isn't a good time."**

**"I know I did, but I've been thinking about it and it might be what we need to get things straightened out."**

**"You don't have to go along with this because you think I want it."**

**"I'm not. I was going to, you're right, but I was thinking about it and it makes sense." Brian raised an eyebrow. He'd love to hear the rationale the twat had come up with. "You're right, the loft is your turf and I do feel that way about it. We can't help it; it's so identified with you and what you were before we got together. I feel like I can't even move a chair because you'll get upset. And we don't have enough room for both of us to do what we want."**

**"Really." It was a statement, not a question. He was letting Justin play this out.**

**"Well, yes—and you're right about my needing a studio. I have a lot of work to do and I need a place I can really do it without worrying about getting paint on the floor."**

**"Uh-huh."**

**"And if Gus is going to come over you're right, he needs a room, or at least a place where he can go and have some privacy." The door buzzer went off, he got up to answer, pressing the button for the delivery guy. "I'll call my Mom after we eat—OK?"**

**"Sure." Hell, it could work, it might help.**

**"Brian? Mrs. Taylor is here." Jennifer had been looking for a couple of weeks, knowing Brian would have no patience with being dragged from place to place. She and Justin were weeding through the possibilities then showing him the ones with the most promise. She had a few she wanted him to look at and took a chance that he was free. He wasn't, really, but it wouldn't take long. He opened his office door and let her in.**

**"Well, first of all, the loft already had two offers on it at six hundred and fifty and two more are interested. I think you should just sit tight and let them start a bidding war. With any luck it will go over seven hundred, maybe even a little higher."**

**"That sounds good, if we're looking starting in the one million range, that will give me a decent down payment." She handed him a folder with pictures of houses. Sitting at his desk he leafed through them.**

**Yes, they were starting in the one million dollar ballpark, but it was quickly becoming apparent that to get what he and Justin wanted would be almost twice that, or it could well end up being a tear down that they would have to put time and more money in. The odds that Brian would be willing to live through that were pretty small. He'd done it with the loft, living in his old place until every detail was perfect, but he wasn't going through that again. He wouldn't. He slit his wrists first.**

**"Justin thought that you might like this one—it has twenty foot ceilings in the living room and the great room, three bedrooms and another one that could be an office. It s in move in condition, but the drawback is that it would be a forty minute commute for you."**

**"No."**

**"Alright. This one is charming and Justin just fell in love with it." It was a new log cabin on about three acres, pretending to be old and with all the amenities including a Jacuzzi. "It even has a pond that you can see from the windows on this whole side of the house."**

**A little too Little House on the Prairie for Brian. He didn't say that, but she saw his face. She moved on to the next.**

**"This one is lovely—it has that big porch and the views are wonderful…"**

**She went on, talking about ten or so houses. They were all nice, they were all around a million dollars or slightly more, they would all be fine and in all truth he didn't care. This was for Justin. It wouldn't be his loft—their loft, he corrected himself—it would be Justin's and he would make of it what he could. Brian was sure that whatever they ended up with would be beautiful and in good taste, knowing Justin and it would have a slight twist to make it somehow unique and different than anything else anyone had seen.**

**Just about any of them would be fine.**

**"Which one did Justin like the best?"**

**"Well, he liked the cabin the best. He just loved it."**

**"Why don't we all go out and look at in tomorrow, I'm free after about two and I don't think Justin is busy."**

**"…Of course. That should be fine. Shall I meet you at the loft or pick you up here?"**

**The arrangements were made. He would buy the thing if it were feasible. Justin would like it, it would make him happy and it would show Justin that Brian cared enough to get him what he liked.**

**Yes, obviously he knew that Justin didn't see it as a house. He wanted a home, a place to come back to and make their own. Brian knew that. He'd felt that way about the loft. It had been the first real thing he'd ever had that was all his—the first big thing, the first adult thing and he had ever bought and made his own.**

**It was OK; he knew it was time to move on.**

**"Really? Brian, really? Oh, God, I love you, I love you, I love you!" He had thrown his arms around Brian, hugging and kissing and happy, kissing his neck and his cheeks and laughing and hugging and…God, he was so damn happy!**

**Jennifer was smiling a few feet away. The cabin was beautiful. **

**Cabin—shit, it had a dozen rooms, all of them big and light. It had three fireplaces and a three car garage. Justin would have a studio and a decent kitchen and he could make an office for himself where he'd be able to work. The place was in move in condition, the owners had vacated two months ago, retiring to Boca and as soon as they agreed on a price and signed the papers it would be theirs.**

**"The asking price is one and three quarters, but I'm pretty sure they'll come down. They want to get it sold and have it done."**

**"Offer one and a quarter and come up to one and a half if you have to."**

**"Oh, God, Brian—that fireplace in the living room and the pond—we can lie in bed and look at the stars through the skylight. It's so perfect!" He was talking in exclamation points.**

**The owners accepted an offer of one million and two hundred thousand dollars—Jenn had lo-balled them— and Brian knew that he was getting a deal. If the owners had waited until spring they would have gotten their full asking price or more.**

**They would be clear to move in when all the paperwork was done, probably in a few weeks, maybe mid December or so. The loft had gone for seven and a half and Brian had cleared over five hundred in profit, thanks to the gentrification of the area and his own good taste in his renovation of the space.**

**Justin was beside himself, not worrying about practicalities like yard work or plowing the three hundred yard long driveway, ignoring the look of horror on Brian's face when he blithely suggested they could get a snow blade for the jeep. They had politely listened to Emmett's suggestions regarding décor and thanked Debbie for her ideas.**

**Brian was, again, burying himself in work. With a new mortgage he had to make more money and that meant more clients and more and bigger bonuses. Justin would run his ideas past Brian every evening—colors, furniture placement and all of that. Brian would tell him that he trusted his taste completely—a lie of there ever was one since he trusted no one's taste completely except his own, not even Justin's—and that he should make it look the way he wanted. Brian would do his thing in his office and they would call it square.**

**The transfer papers were signed, the keys handed over with no complications and surprisingly little fanfare. Arriving from a meeting, Brian was half an hour late for the closing.**

**He took Justin and Jennifer, along with Molly out for a celebratory dinner and Molly was allowed her first taste of champagne. **

**Somehow it seemed to help. **

**They seemed to be making a start with reconnecting and the damn house was the glue. As they got used to the whole idea of having a house and that place in particular, they found a few of the things that had drawn them together in the first place.**

**The new house seemed like it might actually be the new start they had both known, consciously or otherwise, that they needed. They fought less and they were happier together. Justin was excited and challenged by the idea and the reality of making a home for the two of them and though he had no desire to become a housewife any more than Brian wanted him to, they found that he was good at making the house welcoming, mixing the clean style that Brian favored with his own ideas. In fact they did work on the house together when they could but it was usually Justin who did the lion's share. He happened to have a work lull just then and Brian happened to be swamped.**

**And if Justin's endless talk about the shades of white and natural fabrics versus synthetic got on Brian's nerves, the house was large enough that he could go elsewhere and close a door. Equally, if Brian's absences or silences annoyed Justin, he could call a friend or have someone over without worrying that Brian would be disturbed by their talk or music.**

**Having the extra space and the ability to get away from one another seemed to be the cabin's biggest plus.**

**Brian would come home from the office, eat whatever was put in front of him, look at whatever fabric samples or paint chips Justin showed him and make comments.**

**Justin would spend a good part of his day sanding and painting and arranging drawers and cabinets and closets until he couldn't stand it but then preen when Brian would mention whatever progress had been made.**

**They had plans to spend Thanksgiving with Jennifer and that side of Justin's family at the condo. Some aunts and uncles and a few cousins plus the grandparents would be there and Brian wasn't looking forward to the annual lecture on his health and how what he did affected the twat, but he could smile and deal with it—so long as it was only once a year.**

**Things were running smoother between them right now, thank God—privately he was afraid that once the chaos and upheaval of the move and Justin's art commitments and his schedule calmed down—which it would in a couple of months—they would find that nothing had changed other than their mailing address, but he was hopeful and he knew Justin felt the same.**

**Their sex life had improved a bit, too, finally. They were back up to almost every night and a goodly number of mornings. And it was good.**

**Brian liked Jacuzzis.**

**"Brian? I've been thinking." His attention was pulled back from where it was going.**

**"I thought you told me you'd given that up two months ago"**

**"Fuck you."**

**"…Fine, sorry. About...?"**

**"The house is coming together and Gardner said you'd get some time off for Christmas. We could have a party—sort of a house warming and holiday thing. No one has seen the place since the furniture arrived and we haven't had time to see anyone in weeks. Would that be OK?"**

**Parties were good. Parties he organized were better but he knew Justin wouldn't go along with that. Not this time. He'd make up for it later. In the Jacuzzi. "When were you planning on doing this?"**

**"The last Saturday in December, a couple of days after Christmas."**

**"…Are you sure you wouldn't rather go somewhere for the break?" He hadn't thought about it until this minute, but it would get him out of dealing with the damn party. Besides, it would probably cost about the same either way.**

**That was something Justin hadn't considered. With all the money they'd been spending on the house, he thought that they would be cutting back a little. On the other hand, this was Brian he was dealing with. He went with the truth, usually a good choice with Brian.**

**"I'd rather stay around here and get the house really put together—do you mind?"**

**He was going to snark but restrained himself. "It's fine—I should stay close anyway. We'll do it another time." Probably. Besides, this party thing could work. "There's still a lot to do around here and if I'm off I can help you more for a while." Well, he wouldn't really be off, but he would be around more than he had been. He could probably take a long weekend.**

**Justin called Emmett to help, begged that the theme be understated and insisted that he wanted hot mulled cider to go along with everything else and got the house—with Brian's help when he was around, presentable. He even managed to get his studio set up and begin work on a new series he'd had an idea for which Fred was excited about. Things were going well.**

**Well, yeah, Brian was still working a lot of extra hours, but Justin knew the house had been expensive and…shit, he was still working himself to exhaustion, he was just, well, he was—still Brian and Justin had even told him once that he didn't expect him to change, that he didn't want him to. **

**He just wanted him to be around for a long time.**

**Thanksgiving weekend Brian gave Justin his half of the guest list. Obviously they'd have the family, but Justin wanted to add some of his PIFA friends, some local gallery owners, a few old high school friends, Daphne. He was even sending an invitation to his father, not that he expected him to show up. **

**When he saw Brian's list he didn't bother saying anything—there would be no point—but he understood why he had given in so easily to the idea of the party. Almost every single one of Brian's guests was business, up to and including Jim Stockwell and his frigging wife.**

**It was just another day at the office, another chance to make contacts. Fine, Damnit, he'd have his party, Brian could have his—there was room in the house for both.**

**"Justin? You coming?" Brian called him from what they called the sunroom; the Jacuzzi was in there.**

**"I'll be right there." Whatever. **

**It was Brian. It was business as usual.**

**Note: Real Estate prices in Pittsburgh...I've no idea. I live in an area where the prices are very inflated and so I'm going to pretend—even though we all know better—that the prices would be about the same as where I am. Be amused and happy that you aren't paying them. And yes, I know that it takes longer than this to buy a house and move into it…hey, it's my story. It moves on my time frame**


	12. Chapter 12

**Second Year**

**December**

**The party had, from the perspective of any one of the eighty or so guests, been a complete success.**

**The food was fabulous. The shrimp and the crab claws had to keep being refilled, the Jell-O molds that Justin has sort of hidden in the back because he didn't want anyone to see them, but he didn't want to hurt Em's feelings were actually eaten—Emmett had outdone himself—the house itself was a showplace, even if they had just moved in a month ago. The mix of people was interesting and Justin's PIFA friends mingled with the various advertising people and company executives Brian had invited. There had been good music and good wine. Everyone had behaved, even the ones who had decided to jump into the Jacuzzi wore bathing suits, and it was actually a classy affair.**

**Brian was, no surprise, wearing new Prada and Justin was in decent cords and a good sweater Jennifer had given him for Christmas.**

**Craig had shown up, briefly, been polite, complimented the house, taken the tour and looked chagrined when he saw the master bedroom with the king-sized bed and the shower large enough for entertainment purposes. He had avoided Brian, who returned the compliment, and kissed Jenn and Molly on the cheek. He had even gone so far as to tell Justin that he hoped that he was happy. Justin just nodded and saw him to the door.**

**Debbie had walked through, proclaimed the place a fucking palace and wanted to know where the vino was. She talked to everyone, telling them all that she had known Brian since he was fourteen and had always known he'd end up in a place like this—or a fucking jail cell and she hoped that he knew what he had in Justin because he was a Goddamned saint as far as she was concerned and dared anyone to say otherwise.**

**No one did, though Michael looked tempted.**

**Cynthia has asked Brian if she'd sleep with him, could she live in a place like this, too and since he was doing so well, could she have a raise, please?**

**Vance worked the crowd, charmingly.**

**Vic and Rodney kissed in the Jacuzzi.**

**Some of the guests seemed to think that it was an Anniversary party and though their anniversary was next week, no it hadn't been planned as one. They politely thanked people for the few presents and put them in another room for later.**

**Brian was a congenial host, making sure everyone had a drink or a plate or knew where the bathrooms were. Justin did the same and somehow the two of them managed to spend most of the evening apart, too busy with the crowd, with their friends and assorted family to speak to one another or to stand together talking or to dance. They were simply too busy—anyone could see that.**

**Jennifer saw it for what it was though, and Lindsay, that they were avoiding one another. **

**Vance only noticed that Brian seemed to be getting along well with the head of Pittsburgh Glass and his wife and Ben noticed that Brian seemed to be schmoozing Jim Stockwell and his PTA wife as though bygones were bygones and for the life of himself, couldn't figure out why. **

**Daphne was just happy for Justin and Brian. She knew they were still having some rough spots that would need some work, but they seemed like they were pretty happy tonight—which was good since her own boyfriend had moved into her place and she didn't have room if Justin's panties got into another knot.**

**Ted was still in rehab.**

**The guests stayed til almost three, or the stragglers did, anyway. It was a good party.**

**Upstairs, around four, they were in bed, Brian was horny and Justin was both tired and not in the mood.**

**"What's the problem now, princess?"**

**"…I fucking hate it when you call me that."**

**"What's the problem now, Sunshine?"**

**"You know Goddamned well what." For being as angry as he was you'd have thought that he'd have been shouting, but he was just talking, almost conversationally. "You treated our party—OK, MY party—like a Goddamned business meeting."**

**"It was both, you knew that."**

**"Sure I did, as soon as I saw who you invited."**

**"So, what's the problem? I think I might have landed Pittsburgh Glass tonight."**

**"Big fucking deal."**

**"Sweetheart." Justin hated it when Brian was sarcastic and he was sarcastic so frigging often. "The signing bonus alone will pay the mortgage on this place for two years."**

**"Fucking whoop for you. Every Goddamned thing is business with you—every fucking thing. We have a housewarming and you turn it into a chance to score an account."**

**"Justin, stop." He was tired and not in the mood.**

**"Fine, and get your hand off of my ass."**

**"Not a problem."**

**Brian was in the Jacuzzi the next morning before lunch, relaxing, enjoying the heat and the water and the view—Christ, did he actually think that?—waiting for Justin to finish whatever he was doing so they could have some lunch and maybe some make up sex. Maybe they could have the makeup sex in the Jacuzzi, which would have the double advantage of sex in the Jacuzzi and Brian not having to move.**

**He waited a while.**

**After an hour or so—and he knew he wasn't supposed to stay in more than like half an hour—he climbed out, wrinkled, and went looking.**

**The note was on the kitchen counter. **

**He had gone to his mother's to get some space and he'd call.**

**Fucking twat.**

**The wind was cold, the leaves swirling along the path in Schenley Park and Gus was screaming and laughing at being dizzy and falling down from spinning as fast as he could in one place. He'd spin, spin then stop and stagger a bit then spin and spin again. He'd probably end up tossing the hamburger he'd had, but what the Hell. He was having a good time.**

**Brian had him for a couple of days so the Moms could have a break and it had been going great, just the two of them together. They'd been having fun—they'd seen the latest Disney flick, they'd eaten junk food, they'd stayed up late together and they had just exhausted the entertainment possibilities of the play ground. Brian would drop him off at the girl's when they left the park and though he would miss the kid, he would welcome the quiet.**

**Well, no. That wasn't true. He wouldn't, not really. In fact, he was starting to dread it.**

**Since Justin had left a couple of days ago the house had been quiet and Gus noise, while fun in its way, wasn't what he wanted.**

**After what had happened Justin had packed enough of his shit to tide him over for a few days or a week and had carried through with his threat. He was staying with Jennifer and Molly at the condo. They were both miserable and Jen wasn't all that happy with the turn of events, either. She felt caught in the middle and it was starting to annoy the Hell out of her, truth be known. She knew that Justin was unhappy and she'd seen enough of them to know that Brian wasn't any more pleased with how things were going between them. She understood how both men felt and thought that they both had good points but that each was taking his side too far and that was the main problem.**

**Justin has told her that Brian had told him not to be a twat, to fucking grow up, to cut the drama queening and just deal with it. If he didn't want to stay in the same bed, they did have two empty guest rooms he could use. He didn't want that. If they were going to be in the same house they would be in the same bed. If they weren't going to be in the same bed, he would leave the damn house.**

**Yes, Brian should try to cut back on his work and his hours, both for his own health and the health of his marriage. Yes, of course Justin wanted them to spend more time together and he needed Brian to be there to support him at his openings and such.**

**On the other hand, Brian's business was building and he was needed to make it all run smoothly plus he was the one most of the clients wanted to deal with—and he made a ton of money. No, money wasn't the be-all and end-all, but it did matter, especially with the kind of bills he was paying now.**

**And Justin needed Brian to be around and she wasn't just thinking about the business trips and that sort of thing. Justin could understand them—it was Brian's not being there when they were in the same room that he couldn't tolerate. His mind was always on the next layout, the next thirty second spot, the next ad spread. **

**And no marriage could survive with the sort of unequal relationship they had going…she knew how that was and she also knew that if they didn't break the patterns they were falling into soon, they would be so firmly set that they likely wouldn't be able to break them, ever. Brian was the dominant partner, that had been more than obvious since day one to most people, but Jenn had seen how Justin could manipulate him, sway him, bring him around to another point of view. As far as that sort of thing, and intelligence too, went they were, as Debbie had once told her, pretty evenly matched.**

**It was the other stuff where Justin was in Brian's shadow.**

**The money, of course, but that was just the most visible part. Brian's business was moving into the major markets and he would want to move with it. Justin would have to either tag along or stay behind in any manner of the word you chose to use. **

**They were uneven in terms of their day-to-day lives, too, and what had started as just common sense had grown into assumption of division of labor and being taken for granted.**

**Brian didn't like to cook, Justin did. Brian would prefer to pay someone to do his cleaning and his laundry and all of that. Justin wouldn't waste the money, especially if he was home anyway. Her son could well become a housewife with his studio and his art to keep him sane.**

**Luckily he seemed to have enough talent that he was starting to make a dent of his own, but there were no guarantees. He might just be a flash in the pan; his work might fall out of favor.**

**What Justin did, his painting, was every bit as important as Brian's work was to him and she believed that they both completely understood that, but somehow the money seemed to tip the power toward Brian—along with his age and simply his sheer size. There was no way it couldn't make a difference when he stood more than six inches taller than Justin did.**

**His age. Their ages. Brian had twelve years on Justin. They all knew that. Brian had decades on him as far as experience went and she wasn't just talking about sex. Brian had been raised in a dysfunctional household, Justin in a supportive and loving one. Brian had been abused, physically, mentally and sexually from the time he was a child. Justin had—well, he hadn't.**

**Brian had been forced to learn survival skills that had stood him well in every aspect of his life, except in dealing with someone in a loving relationship. He was tough as nails and would lash out at the first hint of a threat even if he were all wrapped up in Armani and Prada.**

**Justin was open and giving. Brian was a closed book.**

**Justin wore his heart on his sleeve, Brian kept his hidden behind stonewalls and under lock and key.**

**They loved one another, they both knew that, but…**

**They were at loggerheads.**

**They would talk every night for hours on the phone and they saw one another everyday, meeting at the diner for breakfast, but Justin refused to move back until Brian agreed to scale back. Brian insisted hat he had, as much as he could right now, and Justin had to understand that his business was important to him.**

**More important than their marriage?**

**Apples and oranges. The two weren't the same. They were different parts of his life and there wouldn't be an equal balance. That was impossible. There was give and take. Right now he needed to concentrate on his work. Eventually he would be able to settle back a little. He wanted to, he just couldn't yet.**

**What about passing out from exhaustion? What about wrecking the car because he'd fallen asleep at the wheel last year? What would it take to make him understand?**

**He did, he did understand, he just needed a few more months. **

**Come back home.**

**No. Not until you slow down and take care of yourself.**

**God, they were both so damn stubborn. This had gone too far. She picked up the phone. She thought she might know who could talk some sense into Brian, at least—if anyone could.**

**Debbie had called them together on Wednesday night, just the two of them and her. She had called each one and ordered them to both show up at her place for a pasta dinner and a heart to heart and they had both shown up. They'd do that for Deb, no matter what they may have been thinking privately.**

**Sitting at her kitchen table, plates full of baked ziti, she looked at both of them. They had greeted one another with a kiss and obviously wanted to say something, but neither one did.**

**They were both looking at their plates, not speaking.**

**"You two look like shit."**

**Brian gave her a mild look; Justin glanced at his husband then over to Deb.**

**"Jennifer told me that you moved out after the party. You want to tell me why?"**

**Eyes on his food. "Not really."**

**She didn't press—yet. "What about you? You have anything to say?"**

**Brian speared a couple of pieces of pasta. "No."**

**"Christ, the two of you…you two love each other. You get through all that shit with the bashing and Stockwell and your idiot families. You fucking get married, you and now you sit there like a couple of teenage girls at a dance afraid to talk."**

**"Deb, I know what you're trying to do and…"**

**"You do, huh? Then Mr. Big Shot Makes So Much Money, you tell me what I have to do to get you two assholes talking to each other again."**

**Justin put his hand on Brian's before he said something that would hurt Debbie's feelings. "We need to work this out ourselves."**

**"What you need to do is realize that you two should be together and believe you me that it's taken me three fucking years to think that—no, you let me finish." The two men glanced at one another. There was no point in trying to stop her. "You." Justin. "You fell hard for him the first time you laid eyes on him, right? And you never fucking let go. You followed him around like a Goddamned puppy until you made him sit up and take notice and then you learned how to pull his chain and make him jump."**

**"Deb, this isn't any of your…"**

**"None of my business? Brian Kinney, you've been my business since the day Michael brought you home from school when you were fourteen, so don't you tell me that…and you. You fought tooth and nail to keep Justin at arms distance and you almost did it—until he got hit in the head and you fell apart at the hospital."**

**"You did?" Justin looked at him, Brian shrugged a so?'**

**"And you"—she turned to Justin—"When you walked off with that kid, that Ethan, I was ready to tie your nuts in a knot if that shithead hadn't done it for you—and I know all about how you walked out when you found out he was screwing around."**

**"Debbie—just leave it, will you?" Brian saw the look on Justin's face. They never talked about this. It still hurt too much.**

**"See—that's what I meant. You two take care of each other, don't you?" Brian was rolling his eyes; Deb gave him a glare that would have done a Kinney proud. "You love each other, right?" **

**Yes, they did, but that wasn't the problem. "Deb…"**

**"You two go home—your own home, and you talk. You, Brian, you learn how to fucking delegate. You have an office full of people to tell what to do. Go tell them to take some of the crap off of you. And you, Justin, stop acting like a twat and tell your husband to get his shit together."**

**"Christ—if it was that easy, don't you think we would have done it by now? Debbie, shit—we've been going around this same block for two years." The ziti was cold. No one cared.**

**"You think I don't fucking know that? So what? You want to be together. Cut the crap and deal with it—after all the shit you two have been through, it shouldn't be that hard, assholes."**

**The conversation went on for another half hour—more of the same. Debbie telling them to get their acts together and cut the bullshit and Justin telling her that they were trying and it was complicated. Without warning Brian got up.**

**"I've had enough of this shit. Justin, you coming?" The other two just looked at him put his coat on.**

**"Uh—sure. Deb, thanks."**

**"You go take your husband to bed and screw some sense into him, you hear me? You call me, Sunshine, you hear me?"**

**They were in Brian's car, the motor off, still at the curb. "You bought the house for me, didn't you."**

**"I thought that it would be a good idea to have something that was ours instead of mine. We needed to be on a more equal footing."**

**"I was going to find out what would have been involved in getting a divorce if this had gone on much longer."**

**"I know that." Brian seemed like he was waiting for the damn shoe to drop—that Justin had called Melanie or something and he'd be getting the papers next week or whenever.**

**"Can you cut back a little—you're losing weight again."**

**Justin could see him roll his lips in. "…Yes."**

**"I hate fighting with you."**

**"Yeah, well, I got enough of it when I was growing up myself."**

**"I want us together, Brian."**

**"I know that. I—do, too." He looked at Justin. He caught a movement in the house. Debbie was watching through the curtain. "You want to go home?"**

**"Yeah, I do…you know, Deb will take credit for it."**

**"Let her."**

**"Are we finished arguing?" He paused. "I mean, for now, anyway."**

**"For now, I think so." He started the car. "I'll try to make your openings."**

**"Try?"**

**"I'll make your openings."**

**"I won't bitch if you work late two nights a week, if you take weekends off."**

**"Four nights a week."**

**"Three. And you're home by ten."**

**"Done." They were headed back to the cabin. "Is the Jacuzzi hot?"**

**"Um-hmm."**

**"Good…"**

**"I think that would be a good place to start."**

**"…Makes me wonder where we'll finish." Brian glanced over at him. Good question.**


End file.
